Rear Window
by MuchMoreRetro
Summary: Naomi and Effy move into their new University digs; a flat with a great view.  Naomi loves to people watch, but after one Emily Fitch heads the welcoming committee Naomi finds herself unable to look away.  But soon Naomi sees more than she bargained for.
1. Chapter 1

Rear Window

**Disclaimer – I own many things but Skins is not one of them, and neither is Rear Window. Don't hate on me.**

**Author's note: Hello! This is an idea that's been running around my mind for a little while now. I'm a writer but I've never really written prose like this before but I've been itching to do this one so I'd love if people could review and let me know if you'd want me to carry on and what you think of it etc. Cheers! Hope you enjoy. Any mistakes are mine.**

Moving house. Moving house is something that I have done an incalculable number of times. Having a mother of the bohemian persuasion, with an insatiable aversion to settling down; meant that my entire childhood was pretty much on the go, as it were. No sooner had we settled in one place, we'd be off! A few junctions up the M6, a ferry ride to the Scilly Isles. As I've said, my mother was insatiable. She still is. And of course, never settling down meant that as soon as I'd acclimatised to one place and formed any semblance of a circle of friends, I'd be unceremoniously uprooted and planted somewhere else.

Billy-no-mates, that's me. Well, that was until we moved to Bristol. My mother met Kieran and things changed. We've been here a year and a half and not even a squeak out of her about moving to another disenfranchised part of the Country that's in dyer need of our help, support and new age values. I suppose I should be happy for her. My dad fucked off yonks ago and as much as she drives me fucking mental, she deserves a little bit of happiness, I can't begrudge her that. She's my mum after all. Even if Kieran is a proper old fuck bucket.

But there comes a moment in every mothers life where she has to let her own flesh and blood fly the coop. After years of communal living, of moving place to place, it's me who's moving on and my mother staying put. I'm eighteen. That's right, fucking eighteen! The age to beat all ages! The age where I can say, 'Go fuck yourself', whenever and to whomever. Might not be the most sensible thing to do but I can fucking well do it if I like.

So I'm moving out. I've got my own place, I have a flatmate and most importantly I have a place at the University of Bristol studying Economics and Politics; the whole reason for the move. Effy's my flatmate, we met in college. She was all in her head and I was overly opinionated so we seethed and silently judged together, a perfect match. Two years on and we haven't really changed.

Eff managed to get a place at the Uni through clearing studying Photography, one of the only things she really showed much passion for at college, something that she's actually really bloody good at. This involved a lot of arm-twisting on my part. Over period of about seven months I managed to convince her that going to University and all the accumulated debt that comes with it is still slightly more beneficial than spending the twilight years of your lost youth in a pool of your own vomit. I'm never one to judge, who am I kidding of course I am, but Effy can be a little wild. But one of those in-the-peace-and-quiet-of-my-own-home wilds. They're the ones you have to look out for. So I made it my best friend duty to help her dig her way out of the little hole she'd created for herself. I'd say we're probably a good two thirds of the way out of there.

As for her, she's made it her own personal mission to get me laid at Uni. I have a low tolerance for arseholes, therefore me and almost every man I meet here in Bristol just don't seem to mesh. She blames it on my unspoken yet undeniable lust for her, which makes being with any other shag pretty traumatic. She's a modest girl. But we keep each other sane. Just and so.

'Naomi! Which room's yours?'

'The one on the right mum!' I call from the living room/dining room area as my mum carries another box of absolutely essential but miscellaneous belongings through to my new room. I always thought moving was supposed to be a stressful experience but so far things were going pretty well. So far, I had managed to avoid not most but all manual labour.

Eff and I had managed to do pretty well for ourselves considering we were pretty late into the flat hunting game. The block we were moving into was not on University grounds but close enough to campus that rolling out of bed 20 mins before lectures started and making it in before the Course Leader took the register was a realistic possibility. The flat has two bedrooms, a kitchen and bathroom and of course the lounge area I was in now. Effy and I had looked at a few places before deciding that this was the place for us. Eff had said that to her, a flat was just a flat, that it was my choice. I remember her smiling a coy smile and telling me as long as she could revel in my company, she'd be happy. Cheeky bitch.

Most places we had been to view had been your standard, no frills, student accommodation. And don't get me wrong, this place is just that, except for one thing. The view.

No there's no spectacular sunsets or mountain ranges, this is Bristol afterall, but from where I'm sitting, from my cushy seat on my slightly over-sprung sofa, I can see faces. Different faces. Different people. Our block is shaped like a horseshoe with a small yard for kids to play in in the centre. If I had kids, they would never, EVER play there. Rusty swings, rusty slides. Chavs. Gross. But across from the yard, passed the chavs and their tracky bottoms, passed the rust and the litter bins is the Block B to my Block A. And from my seat, in my small student flat, I can see every little window. Windows to a multiplicity of different universes that until now I've had no insight upon. Seeing things from someone else's perspective is hard, however much we try to Atticus Finch it and people watching at times can make you feel minute in the grand scale of things but it's nice, to able to just put up that wall and get to know someone without having to let them in. It's creepy yes, but as I said, watching people is what Effy and I did through college. We were known by eachother and only each other. To everyone else we were a mystery, we liked it that way, we still do. But you should see her photography. She sees things even I can't.

'Naomi dear! A hand please?'

I roll my eyes, fuck sake. I begrudgingly tear my gaze away from the window and remove myself from the sofa, stomping into the kitchen. I fix my mother with the Campbell death glare, one she knows well. Though my mother would rather use it in the face of hairy, digger driving men whilst she's chained to several tree with her band of merry hippies. 'Yes? Can I help you with something?'. Currently, my mother is struggling under the weight of a box of plates, bowls and mugs.

'Naomi love, Anthea is nowhere to be seen yet Effy has stilled managed to get everything moved up and into her room already. Now if you...could...just...' My mum begins to huff and puff as she attempts to push the heavy laden box up onto the kitchen counter. I shrug and move to help, I'm not always an ungrateful cow you know, supporting the box from underneath, pushing it up to meet the edge of the tops and then letting my mum shove the box the rest of the way. Blimey, that was a lot heavier than I thought. I glance at my mum who sends a tired smile my way. 'Thanks love.'

'Don't mention it. Though, I think I might have pulled something. Might need to have a sit dow-ow!' I yelp as mum swipes the back of my head playfully and I can't help but grin. She's no fool my mum. Maybe a mad cow but no fool. All of a sudden I'm enveloped in flurry of beads, linen and scarf. I stiffen up for a second before I realise my mother is hugging me. My mother. Hugging me. I exhale the breath I didn't realise I was holding and settle my chin on her shoulder and close my eyes.

'I'm so proud of you dear. All grown up. Out to change the world,' she sniffles into my shoulder. I find myself smiling again at the faith she has in me. 'I'll miss you love'. And that's when the tears begin to well in my eyes. Standing here, in my mothers embrace, it's weird but I realise all the things I'm going to miss about her. The mugs of tea in the morning, the trips to the local Spar for yet another pack of garibaldis to replace the ones she just bought me that I immediately guzzled. Her smell. You can always find comfort in the smell of your mum, no matter how fucking infuriating she is. It must be imprinting or something. I just feel safe. I remember when I was young she'd used to go to rallies and leave me at home alone, I'd sneak into her room and she'd find me asleep in her bed when she got home. It was like she'd never left me. But she had.

My eyes snap open and I pull away quickly, rubbing unshed tears from my eyes. There's an awkward silence as neither can bring ourselves to meet each other's gaze. When we finally do all I can see is defeat. Shit. She's been trying to make things up to me these past few years, building bridges, but I just keep knocking them down. I feel a pang of guilt so I decide to do for my mum what she does for me when she's feeling guilty.

'How about I make some tea for a change? Have a sit down mum, I've run you off your feet.' My mum's face brightens a little again.

'Sounds lovely dear. I've left you a few packs of biscuits in one of those boxes, how about we crack some open?' My smile doesn't quite reach my eyes as I turn back to rummage through the boxes whilst my mum shuffles through to the lounge, finding all the necessary utensils for superior tea making. Kettle, check, mugs, check, strainer, check, milk check and above all biscuits, check.

I pick out two mugs, two of my favourites. Although mum insisted I buy new things for my new life away from home, she did let me take a few old things from our collection, for nostalgia's sake. So my new flat felt like a home. Although we moved around a lot mum would never throw old things away. When we moved, everything moved with us. That's what made wherever we were living at the time our home, not the house itself but all the little trinkets we'd picked up over the years that adorned the walls and the shelves, each holding their own little tales that when put together told the story of our travels over the years as Mother and Daughter, whether the memories be good or bad.

'Make that tea for three.'

'Jesus Christ!' I practically jump out of my skin.

'A little in our head today are we?'

I turn to find Effy Stonem inches away from me, incredible blue eyes almost dancing with curiosity, hot breath on my skin. She likes to tease. Tall, brunette and absolutely stunning. You totally would, but she would fuck you up.

'You're one to talk.' She simply shrugs in response and slinks out of the kitchen. 'One sugar or two?' I call after her. She raises her middle finger and keeps walking, hips swaying with purpose. I scoff a little and shake my head. 'Charming,' I say to myself. _Fucking Charming_.

* * *

I'm stuffed, and covered in crumbs. Bliss. I've had two cups of tea and out of the three of us we've managed to polish off an entire packet of those wondrous, golden biscuits. Well, I had a good majority of them, but in all fairness, they were mine. Again I'm reclined in my favourite chair, unfocused eyes gazing out of the window. I can hear my mum talking Effy's ear off somewhere to my right about the patriarchal undertones of the current electoral system, and God bless Effy Stonem for she's actually sitting there and at least acting as if she's interested in what my mum has to say. I can hear her little interested 'hmms' every now and then and I smile to myself. Effy doesn't have the best relationship with her mother and I often think Eff enjoys _my_ mother's company far more than _I_ do. I turn my head to look at them and I catch Effy's eye, she smiles at me genuinely, both conspirators, both aware of my mother's madness. A laugh escapes me as I think about how care free Effy can be when she's around people she trusts. My mum sees Effy's look and scoots round to face me.

'Coming out of your fooma I see, Naomi. Effy dear, you're really going to have to keep an eye on her. Once she's alone with those things, who knows what she'll do?' I try my best to scowl at her as she rises to her feet and moves to kiss me on the forehead. 'Best be off girls. I'll leave you in peace. Have any plans for your first night as independent adults?'

'Bed,' I moan, holding my stomach, only a little for a effect. Maybe there is such a thing as too many garibaldis. Scratch that. Not possible.

As my mum looks round for her handbag I make an attempt at getting up off the sofa but mum spots me and shhs me back down. 'Don't get up dear, I can see myself out.' For such a significant parting of ways as this I'm a little surprised. No hug, no tears. I suppose we'd already tried that today. Guilt begins to tug at the back of my mind. Maybe I shouldn't be leaving her so soon. Will she be lonely without me? _Of course not you dick, she has Kieran_. I hesitate, I need to say something but I don't know what, why the fuck am I being such an idiot? Why has this suddenly become so difficult all of a sudden? It's not as if we'll never see each other again, this was inevitable.

'You'll have to come see us Gina, soon. Bring Kieran, it can be a double date' Effy digs me in the ribs, wearing a satisfied smile. She's winding me up but also by the way she narrows her eyes at me I can see she's trying to jump start me into action, giving me an out. Stonem to the rescue. I jump to and grab it.

'Yeah, absolutely,' I'm quick to my feet, nodding with enthusiasm which I think comes across as genuine. 'You've been great today mum, thanks. You'll have to come round when we're a little more sorted,' I offer.

After a few more half hugs and thank yous my mother gone. I'm back in my chair, casting my eyes across the many windows of Block B. The sun set a good half hour ago leaving the lounge in darkness and by now B Block's resident's have started switching lights on and off as they move from room to room, creating silhouettes against curtains and illuminating features that I wouldn't usually be able to make out in the dimming light. I spot a sandy haired man, standing close to what I presume is his window. He's shirtless and his gaze seems unfocused, almost vacant. He looks lonely. I make a note to send a smile his way if I see him in the yard. I keep my eyes on him as he finishes his cigarette and stubs it on the window's ledge. Hands then sneak round his torso, small hands with small fingers spread across his ribs, tracing the many tattoos that decorate his skins. But the man's eyes still look empty. His body language disinterested. He exhales deeply but slowly turns into the embrace, stepping away from the window and out of view. In the darkness a smile plays at the corners of my mouth. In those few moments I'd observed the shirtless man I'd probably seen a part of him that the person those tiny hinds belonged to had never been privy to.

I'm pulled from my reverie as the doorbell I didn't know we have chimes. It's late, is it late? And who the fuck would want to visit us? We've just moved in. No one knows us. I stretch as I make my way over to the door, switching the light on at the switch, and flattening my hair. Still half blinded and squinting from the sudden change from dark to light, I swing open the front door.

All I can see is red. I blink a few times, the blur in front of me slowly coming into focus, slowly becoming a person. A really tiny person, a really tiny person holding a cake?

'Hi, welcome to the building.' The small red head offers the cake in my direction. It's possibly the biggest cake I've ever laid eyes on, or it could just be that the holder of the cake was particularly petite. I look from the cake to it's maker, my eyes now completely adjusted to the light, and I see her in detail for the first time. My blues meet the most deep brown eyes they've ever seen. For a moment I'm lost. I've been told many a time that I possess a rather beautiful pair of blue eyes, whether it be a genuine compliment or a tired chat up line. My mother has brown eyes so the blue in mine was always something I've assumed I've inherited from my father. Though having never met him I could never know for sure. Some have said my eyes were penetrating, but these brown orbs in front of me are something completely different. I feel as if they're pulling me in, engulfing me. I drag my eyes away quickly before I get lost completely and quickly take in the rest of the girl's delicate features. A dainty button nose, small rosy lips and deep cherry red hair. I feel my eyes being drawn to her lips which I realise, after a moment, are moving.

'...so I made the assumption that we'd have some new tenants soon and well, here you are.' My lack of words must be unnerving her as she quickly looks down again, at the cake still in her hands. I shake my head in an attempt clear the visions of red appearing behind my eyes. _Jesus Naomi. Must attempt speech._

_'_Err, thanks.' _Good one. _The redhead's eyes snap up to mine again, a smile now on her face, clearly pleased with the tiny amount of gratitude I'm offering her. 'I...shit...sorry...I mean,' I laugh a little at myself, shifting uncomfortably on my feet. My visitor is practically beaming now, I think she's finding my discomfort amusing. Cheeky bitch. 'It looks incredible, cheers,' I say, hoping she knows I mean it.

'No problem. Just a little something to make you feel welcome... from all of us. I'm Emily by the way, I live just across the yard, in Block B?' My eyes snap to meet hers again, my curiosity well and truly peaked.

'Nice to meet you Emily. I'm Naomi,' I offer my hand and she takes it, juggling her burden into one hand. Small fingers grip tightly around mine. We don't shake, we just stand there for a moment. Maybe a moment longer than I realise as she begins to look anywhere but me again, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. I smirk ever so slightly and I retract my hand, rather begrudgingly, to save her the embarrassment of having to do so herself. She sends an embarrassed smile my way as silence falls between us. 'Thanks for the cake.'

'Don't mention it,' she says, her voice huskier and lower now than before, causing my beat a little faster in my chest. _Christ that was sexy_. She passes me the cake, turns and in a flash skips down the corridor before I can thank her once more and I have to admit, I enjoy watching her go.

I exhale as I kick the front door closed behind me, the cake Emily made still in my arms. I look up to find Effy watching me struggle with the oversized confectionary. She's smiling at me silently, amusement in her eyes. This isn't a good sign.

'Aww, sweet.' I try to ignore the edge to her words, the implication of them.

'That was Emily, Eff. A neighbour,' I offer, ' She lives in Block B, brought us this.'

'Which flat?'

I shrug. I'm non committal. 'Don't know yet.'

Effy sniggers. 'Yet...' She knows I will before the evenings out, she knows I wont be able to put a stop on my curiosity. I'll be at my window, waiting and hoping to see one more flash of that beautiful red hair.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Skins, or Rear Window. Maybe when I'm rich.**

**Author's note: Hey guys! First of all I want to thank you for all the lovely reviews. You've all been very kind so cheers! This update is half filler half actual plot to get the ball rolling. I've finally got every plot point sorted in my mind now. Unfortunately I'm going to be on a week long film shoot starting Thursday. It's going to be very long hours but I'll try and update as much as possible. It might mean short chapters or infrequent updates. Not sure yet but hopefully I'll be able to get some updates out. This chapter will answer one particular question. Hope you enjoy...**

I waited. And I waited. But that glimpse of red never came. It's well past midnight now and the chances of me finding what I'm seeking are getting shorter and shorter. Most of the lights in the flats opposite are extinguished now, most people being in their beds. A faint glow of a cigarette flares over where I saw the sandy haired man earlier this evening and for one fleeting moment I see his eyes, illuminated, just as vacant as before.

I close my own eyes as tiredness begins to take over. They worked hard this evening. Even on a quiet Sunday night you'll find there's more going on than meets the eye if you look hard enough. But tonight, I only had eyes for a redhead, and the redhead didn't show. I practically peel myself from the chair and make a beeline for the kitchen, my legs just and so getting me there without any mishaps on their part. I lean on the counter top, relaxing my neck and letting my head drop a little, trying to shake the cobwebs. I roll my shoulders a few times, feeling a few satisfying clicks, and then head to browse through the many boxes that cover most of the kitchen surfaces. _Wine glass, wine glass, ooh, wine glass_. My mother had the sense to bring the biscuits which was genius in itself, but I had the sense to bring wine.

Often when trying to sleep I find my head is so filled with thoughts flying here and which ways I struggle to sleep. The people watching distracts from that, occupies me, but with Emily's no show tonight my mind is restless. A glass of red wine before bed just helps me find sleep that little bit easier. I'm not a drunk, just a realist. I rinse my glass to get rid of any cardboardy dust and grime and then pour myself a descent amount. I raise it in Effy's general direction, sleeping beauty in the room adjoined to this one.

'To us...' I say into the darkness. It might not seem much but Effy and I have come a long way together. To have her still here with me means something. I grin.

'And to redheads everywhere. All teases, the lot of you.' I take a sip of wine and cringe at the bitterness. Okay, I'll try and be less of a cheap skate next time. I shuffle to my room, taking one last glimpse out of the window in hopes of seeing something... anything. No luck. I sigh a little and carry on down the hall, past Eff's room and arrive at my door, opening it with my spare hand. Once inside I put my wine down and change for bed. When I say change, I mean remove my clothes. I retrieve my wine, finishing it off with a quick swig and practically fall into bed.

For the second time tonight I wait. I wait for sleep to come but it doesn't. I look over at my empty glass of wine, moonlight shining through the dregs at the bottom, casting a red haze across the surface of my bedside table. I close my eyes to escape the red but red's still all I can see. Opening my eyes once more, I glare determinedly at the ceiling this time.

With most people I watch, I'm happy to be on the outside looking in. I'm happy to see the little piece of people's lives that maybe others don't see and take my own meaning from them. Take little clues and piece them together over time. Days, weeks, months maybe. But with Emily, I want to know everything. Now. Why can't I wait? And why can't I sleep?

Usually I'll see someone from a distance at first. Watch them, whether it be in class or at the supermarket, and then decide after I've seen the part of them that they _don't_ show people whether it's worth me seeing the part of them that they _do_ show people. But from our first meeting I got the distinct impression that what I saw today; the flirty, cheeky side of Emily, was the side that most people don't see and was in fact a side that maybe, just maybe, was only for me.

* * *

I wake with a growling in my stomach. A slither of sunlight falling across my bed. I check my watch, the only article left on my body. Shit, it's already 11am. I scrunch up my eyes again, a throaty moan escapes me, I'm obviously displeased. My stomach grumbles again. Who is this person in my tummy? Deciding to appease this incessant creature, I roll out of bed, lazily pillaging my suitcase for a long t-shirt and a pair of colourful boxers. I clamber into them on my way to the kitchen. Momentarily catching my feet in the shorts, I stumble for a second before regaining my balance, but perhaps not my dignity as I hear a small chuckle from my left.

I look across to find Effy, nose in book, eyes just and so visible over the top, lounging on the sofa.

'Smooth,' she says, eyes fixed on the text, one brow raised in judgement.

'Fuck you Stonem. It's not like it's anything you haven't seen before'.

'What? You starkers? Or is it your embarrassing lack of co-ordination? How about your inability to get out of bed before the sun's at it's highest in the sky?'

I'm slightly taken aback by Effy's unusual outburst. I blink a few times. She lowers her book and smirks. 'Or is it all of the above?' she asks sweetly.

'Ha ha, funny. No cake for you,' I call as a move through to the kitchen, making a beeline for the fridge which holds the only food in the house, Emily's cake. I swing the fridge door open.

'Too late!' Effy calls from the lounge. I can hear the triumph in her voice. I look down in despair. Emily's cake, made by Emily, for me, well for us, but given to me, had been unceremoniously desecrated. 'Maybe if you'd dragged yourself out of bed earlier I wouldn't have beaten you to the punch!'

A 'Bitch!' escapes me. I can hear her laughing quietly to herself again. She knows how to push my buttons, how to get a reaction out of me. I huff and puff, cut myself a slice of cake, and put it back in the fridge. Stomping back through to the lounge I throw myself into my chair, looking out of the window for the first time today. No signs of her, or anyone in fact. The only evidence of human life is the faint hum of traffic in the background and an array of new additions to the litter scattered on the ground around the litter bin, rather than inside inside the litter bin.

Effy touches her toes to my knees, curling them ever so slightly and gently pinching the skin underneath, catching my attention. 'I think you're in trouble Naomi,' she says slowly, wearily. I look at her in confusion. She's come over serious all of a sudden.

'What?' I wince as I realise I've been caught in the act already. She saw me looking.

Effy's eyes darken. A devilish smile slowly creeps onto her lips and I can feel a heat start to rise in the cheeks.

'You don't like fruit cake Nai.' I look down to my plate. _Shit_.

* * *

So here I am. In Asda, starving and coffeed to the max, surrounded by food. The man in my tummy is grumbling again, something about me being a dirty tease. Or is it about Emily being a dirty tease? What am I going to say when I see her again, when she asks me if I enjoyed the cake she painstakingly made?

_'Just lie,' _Effy had said. Typical Effy response. Lying is something I'm good at. Until a few years ago lying to myself was all I'd ever do. _No I didn't just look at that girl's bum, yes I do find giving head a pleasurable experience,_ things like that. But the idea of having to look into those endless eyes and lie. That's something I'm not sure I can do.

The shopping takes longer than I expected as I'm under strict instructions to pick up all the things we'll need to function as a household. Cleaning products, toilet roll, kitchen foil, air fresheners, as well as all the groceries_ I'll_ need to satisfy the gaping hole where my stomach should be. A few times I thought I saw a flash of red out of the corner of my eye. One time I did, but it was just a share bag of maltesers. Though still something I could get excited about. In my trolley they went.

I drag the shopping home, most of it I have in my old lady trolley bag Kieran gifted me as we parted ways and the rest in reusable 'green bags', made out of 5% recycled material. Wow, effort. I think reducing your daily intake of baked beans would go further to saving the planet than using these particular bags. I bang on the door with my forehead, all hands occupied. 'Effy! Hey Eff! It's me, let me in!' No response. 'Effy?' I plead. Nothing. I moan as I dump the shopping outside the door and and raid my pockets for my front door key. I get the door open and drag all the shopping across the threshold. Finally, hands freed, I grab the chicken a bacon sandwich I strategically placed on top of my trolley bag thing, push the door closed with my hip and start munching. God that tastes good.

'Effy?' I call, her name muffled by a mouthful of food. 'Oi bitch, I could have used some help!' The flat was still. 'Hey crazy lady, where'd you go?' I say, trying to antagonise her out of whatever hole she's crawled into. Still no reply.

I stick my head into the kitchen and spot a scrap of torn paper on the breakfast bar. _Gone out_. 'Wow, specific'. I sigh. Typical, now I'm going to have to unpack all by myself.

I traipse back through to the lounge, shoving the other half of the sandwich greedily into my mouth. I stand, chewing, hands on my hips and stare hopelessly at the shopping. What a mission. I look to the window in hope of finding something to distract me from the task at hand. Nothing, nada, no one. Damn. I turn back towards the shopping, wait... what the fuck? My head snaps almost painfully back to the window.

'What the fuck!' I fly to the window, fingers gripping the ledge, knuckles already white. A flash of red streaks past a window a few floors up from mine across the yard. Red hair, strong hands in red hair. Pulling. Clawing. Dragging.

'What the fuck?' I whisper this time, in disbelief, panic rising. I see her tiny frame struggling against a much larger figure. Hands where unfamiliar hands shouldn't be, tearing at clothes and hair. Her face contorted in a silent scream, her dark eyes petrified.

Naomi think. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 along_... is that one flat or two? Fuck!_ 2 floors above me, that I'm sure of.

Before I can even think about what I'm doing my feet are hammering down the corridor towards the first bend of the horseshoe shaped building. My heart is hammering out of my chest. Why would someone be trying to hurt Emily? Sweet Emily. Emily who bakes cakes for strangers and blushes when you hold her hand for too long.

Second corner.

And why the fuck am I pelting down this corridor in an attempt to save a girl that I hardly know from an unknown assailant twice her size?

I reach the stairs and take them two at a time, my legs now screaming at me.

If I call the police, they'll never get here in time to save whatever horrible shit is going down in there. Even if I can just spook him, maybe that'll enough.

This is the floor, I know it.

Or maybe I'm putting myself in harms way. But all of a sudden in my adrenaline fuelled state, Emily seems worth all that. Completely and absolutely worth it.

I screech to a hault. Flat 5D. This is it. I strain in an attempt to hear noises coming from inside the flat but I can't hear anything over my own laboured breathing. I take a moment to ready myself and then reach for the door. It's ajar, but the lock isn't broken, no sign of forced entry. I push the door a little further and step inside the flat. Emily's flat. These certainly aren't the circumstances I imagined my first visit here to be under. Not that I've imagined that.

I see nothing, no sign of struggle, no Emily, no faceless assailant. I'll say it again. 'What the fuck?'. I step a little further into the lounge, cautiously looking around, heart racing. Glancing through to the kitchen and down the corridor which holds the bedrooms and bathroom, identical to mine and Effy's. Deserted.

The hairs stick up on the back of my neck, I hear heavy, fast moving footsteps. Another flash of red. I whip around, catching sight of a large figure exiting the flat with speed. My feet move to chase him, back out of the flat. I look to my right then left. He's on the stairs going back down the way I came, a red mop of hair hanging over his shoulder.

'Emily!' the desperation in my voice surprises me. The mop of hair still hangs loosely, she can't hear me. She's unconscious. Please say she's only unconscious.

I reach the stairs and begin to bound down them. Three, four steps at a time. I can't let him take her. What the fuck kind of human being would I be? Last flight of stairs now. I might catch him on the flat, where my long legs come into play. I might just...

My foot catches and I fall.

I almost make it to the bottom before he does, a crumpled mess of limbs. My head snaps back and hits the floor hard. A white pain errupting behind my eyes, filling my sense, shooting through every nerve in my body. And as my vision begins to fail me and my head becomes groggy, all I can do is watch as Emily's hair, moving further and further away, catches in the breeze.

**Authors note: Hope you liked it. I'll try not to leave it on a cliff hanger for too long. But come on, it's Naomi, she's tough! Please review, I'd be very grateful :-) - Alex.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Skins or any of the characters. If I did, season 4 would have been very different. **

**Authors note: Hello everyone! Thank you for your wonderful reviews once more. I've just discovered the reply button so I'm going to actually try that one this time round. This is what I've managed to scrape together whilst doing this shoot. Hope you enjoy!**

His mouth is moving but no words are coming out. My head spins. I reach out with an arm to steady myself and find the shoulder of the man in front of me, my heavy head lolling forwards. I feel hands on my shoulders, pushing me backwards. It feels like I'm in water. Every movement feels slow, every action laboured. I was chasing someone...or was someone chasing me?

'Miss Campbell, I advise you to lie back down'. But I can't. The muscles in my stomach begin to convulse and contract as my body's thrown forward. I retch and vomit on the strangers shoes. The sudden movement sounds alarm bells in my head and I feel like passing out would be a better option than staying conscious at this particular moment in time. Another set of hands join the stranger's who seems to be completely unperturbed at my expulsion upon his shoes.

I'm eased back down, my head meeting what must be a pillow carved from the finest Egyptian alabaster. As the ringing begins to subside my vision clears and the words the man's saying now seem to correspond with the movements of his mouth. 'Miss Campbell, I need you to calm down, you're concussed.' _No shit. _'It seems you took quite a tumble.' I rack my brain, or what's left of it, trying to extract some piece of information that can lead me to discovering why the hell I'm here. I screw up my eyes as my world begins to spin again, hoping the darkness will anchor me. 'What you're feeling however is a combination of your head injury and the pain killers we've given you for your leg'. My what?

My eyes snap open. I cast my them down, careful not to move my head which currently feels like a lead weight. Slightly raised, in a sling, sits my right leg tightly encased in a blueish cast. 'Fuck me,' I breath. My eyes close again as I find I can't look. There are pins in my leg and I feel nauseous all over again.

'You were in surgery for five hours Miss Campbell. Your leg was so badly broken we had to pin the bone in order for it to heal correctly. We'd like to keep you in for the next few days at least, monitor your concussion and also allow the swelling to go down in your leg. After a few weeks we'll ask for you to come back so we can remove the pins and apply a softer cast.' The doctor pushes his glasses up upon the bridge of his nose and gives a small chuckle. I feel my top lip curl in irritation. Exactly what part of this is funny?

'Actually, as serious as your leg break is, we hadn't expected you to be awake so soon. Usually with the amount of anaesthesia you were under and a blow to the head like that, you should have been out for up to a day or more. I'm afraid if you have somewhere you need to be, you might have to make other arrangements,' he joked. Funny guy, for a man with the entire content of my stomach now currently residing over his patent leather shoes.

Do I have somewhere to be? I can't think. I begin thinking back to what I _can_ remember. I remember shopping, I remember maltesers. Shopping for the flat, mine and Effy's flat. At Uni. Fuck! 'Shit, I start Uni on Wednesday! Bollocks!' Ouch, speaking loud hurts, ow. I take a moment to let my head settle again.

'I'm afraid even when you're released you'll be under strict instructions to stay in bed Miss Campbell. At least for the first few weeks.' I can't believe it, I can't bloody buggering believe it. I've worked seven years for this, yes University was my goal since starting Secondary School, seven years! And I'm going to miss the first how many weeks? Not bloody likely.

I try to raise my self from the bed. This is my plan, it's a good one; get of this bed and see where it goes from there. If I can in fact get out of this god damn bed. I start to struggle and Doctor - What does his name badge say? Squinting I read Doctor 'Ffossttteerr'? Weird name – tries to coerce me back down. I glare at him, 'You can't legally keep me here'.

'That's true Miss Campbell, but I doubt you'll be able to walk out that door either.'

'That's because you drugged me.' I flail as I try to point an accusatory finger. He rolls his eyes and tsks. I'm starting to sound rather ridiculous, even to myself, but surely he can understand. It's Freshers Week man! Fresher's Week is out the window! You only get the one but no, not me, I get none. How could this have happened? Did I have an accident whilst shopping? Seems unlikely, though I often have miniature waking nightmares in supermarkets of aisles collapsing on top of me. I think I may have seen Jumunji too many times as a child.

'Naomi,' me and the Doc, on first name terms now, he's on my side really see? I sneer. _Tosser_. 'If you don't desist in your movements we may have to give you another sedative, for your own safety. If you wrench your leg it could cause the bone to heal incorrectly, possibly affecting your mobility permanently'.

I know there's something I need to be doing and it's not University. Best get to. 'Look Doc, I appreciate the concern, it warms my heart it really it does, but I'm not stayi...'

'Nurse?' The tosser beckons with a nod of his head towards me as an unusually beautiful woman sticks her head round the door.

'Jackie love, can you come over here and make sure Miss Campbell doesn't hurt herself whilst I give her a little something to help her relax?' The nurse looks a little irate with Doctor Tosser's 'endearment' but nods her compliance and scurries into the room coming to a stop by my bedside. The Doctor smiles disparagingly at me, the nurse apologetically as she leans over, her hands settle gently upon my arms. What's the use in fighting it? As stubborn as I am, the dull throbbing in my leg has been getting increasingly worse ever since I regained consciousness and the pain in my head certainly doesn't feel like it'll be easing any time soon. I roll my eyes in defeat. Fuck sake.

I look up, taking in Nurse Jackie's face. Yep, I was right, beautiful. Even more so knowing that the look of sympathy that has fallen across her angular features is a look just for me. A single lock of red hair falls from behind her left ear and she releases one of my arms to tuck the offending strands back.

'Jackie, keep a hold girl!'

'Sorry Doctor,' She says apologetically, shaking her head at her own perceived stupidity, causing even more loose hair to fall, framing her face. Red hair a stark contrast to her piercing emerald eyes. What a bastard, making her feel like that. I feel a prick in my arm and an odd pressure. Beautiful, vibrant red hair is all I can see. Green eyes twinkling. Beautiful...red...

'Emily!'

I begin to thrash but the sedative already has me. The last thing I see are panicked eyes. This time I swear they're the deepest brown, shrouded in beautiful...red...hair.

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I feel a calming hand caressing my cheek as I twitch, just on the edge of sleep. I lean into it, revelling in its warmth upon my skin. As my eyes open slowly, my cool blues meet familiar azure and instantly I feel safe after such a restless sleep. I feel another hand in my own, thumb running over my knuckles soothingly. Effy smiles at me but she can't hide her worry.

'Hmm, must be nice...' I croak. I attempt to clear my throat, re-igniting the pulsing in my head. Eff must notice my discomfort as she leans in closer with concern, softly urging me not to try to speak. I smile mischievously.

'Must be nice, to not be the one in the the hospital bed for a change,' she recoils, but she's not angry with me. Her scowl isn't fooling anyone. She slaps me on the arm playfully and I grin lopsidedly at her, head still fuzzy.

'Can't leave you alone for one minute can I?' She teases. She's not really joking though, I can see in her eyes that I scared her. I've never really thought about it before because I never planned to take such a nasty nosedive but without my mum and I, Effy would be quite alone. I squeeze her fingers and bring her hand up to my lips briefly.

'Sorry,' I say, completely genuine this time.

'Don't be. Just don't do it again. I don't think Gina could endure another incident like this, she's pacing like a looney outside,' she says, deflecting as she always does when things get a little too serious for her. Wouldn't want to break that stoic exterior, even though I've seen what's underneath countless times before. I see her, and she knows it.

She gets up to leave but I still have her hand. I pull her back with what little strength I have as she pretends to struggle. I tap my cheek with my spare hand. 'Kiss!' I smile sweetly. She rolls her eyes and gives in to my demand. Mmm, I like the perks of being ill. I could get used to this.

'I have to go, your mum will want to know you're awake and Emily's been ringing my phone off the hook, need to update her on...'

'Emily?' Shit. With the mention of her name I'm thrown into overdrive. 'Eff! _He took Emily_. That's why I fell, I was trying to stop him...' It was all flooding back to me. Quickly. The panic in her eyes, the way her attacker manhandled her with such ease, the way my voice broke when I called her name.

'Naomi, don't take this the wrong way, but WHAT THE FUCK are you on about?'

'Emily? Bakes cakes, nice arse?' She stares at me, baffled. 'He took her Eff. I saw him, from the window, I saw him in her flat. We have to tell someone, before he has time to...'

'Oh, the Emily who's on her way over here now. Yeah, yeah, I think I know her. She made coconut cake this time, told her it was your favourite,' she said with a wink. Now it's my turn to look confused. I sit, gob open, waiting for everything Effy's telling me to fit in with my recollection of the previous days events, like a jigsaw puzzle. But the pieces just wont fit, however hard I try and jam them together. You learn pretty quick that method doesn't really work all too well once you try to look at the bigger picture.

'I saw him take her Effy, I did.' I reason, pleading with my eyes for her to believe me. She exhales heavily with a smile.

'You've had a bit of a knock Naomi. You're just confused,' she soothes. 'Emily's fine. Whatever you think happened, didn't. We went for a campus tour and coffee whilst you were doing the shopping. Got a call from your mum whilst we were out.' None of this is making sense, my jigaw is ruined and in pieces. Possibly on the floor.

Effy spots my furrowed brow and returns to the spot next to my bed again momentarily, rubbing my arm. She leans in. 'She's fine Noams. Honest.' She pecks me on the forehead this time, smiles coyly and says, 'Now you'll have to forgive me for what I'm about to do,' before leaving me alone in the Hospital room.

There's a moments silence in which I let myself relax. _She's alright, she fine. _I just need to concentrate on getting ready for uni. I wonder if she'll come to visit me whilst I'm in... I hear the door go – _Emily? _- and I snap my head up, instantly regretting it as my brain starts yelling at me again.

'Noami! How could you have been so stupid? Look at your leg! I was so worried about you, you scared me half to death.' My mother flies into my room, damn you Effy, could have told her I was sleeping or something, looking dishevelled to say the least. I mean, she's not exactly the most prim and proper person ever but I haven't seen her looking this bad since she found out the organic ragu we'd been buying for 7 and a half years contained GM Products. And this isn't nearly half as life threatening. The next thirty minutes of conversation pretty much followed the same vein. What did I think I was doing? Who in their right minds blah blah blah. In the endI turn on the puppy dog eyes and I say I'm thirsty so mum pops out to grab me a glass of water. A few moments respite. A few moments of silence.

That's when she walks through the door. I'm tired and I don't want anymore visitors. I just want to go home. Looks like neither of those things are on the cards tonight. I don't realise it's her at first until I hear her voice. That God damn sexy voice. It sounds even better when she says my name.

'Hi Naomi.' She's here, she's actually here. Not dead or tied up in some crazy's sex dungeon. One side of her mouth is turned up into a disarming smile. 'Wow, you like shit.' I scoff, charming. What a bitch.

'I'd look a hell of a lot better if people would respect hospital visiting hours, but I'm guessing you were never one to follow rules?' She casts her eyes down, guilt flooding her features. She thinks I'm serious. _Fuck_.

'Fuck, Emily, no. I'm kidding. It's a joke,' Foot it mouth disease! Foot it mouth disease! My bumbled apology seems to make do though as the cheeky confidence begins to return. She looks at me then, I mean really looks at me. I'm stuck, pinned, by her big, brown eyes. A smile tugs at her lips once more.

'I heard you like don't like fruitcake.' _Busted_.

**Author's note: Sorry for the lack of Emily. She will be in the next chapter, promise. Think Nurse Emily, and don't get too flustered. Please review, they make my day. They're my lifeline in the middle of a long shoot. Thank you for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own Skins or Rear Window, that's all that's going here today.**

**Author's Note: Thank you again everyone who's reading, reviewing alerting etc. So many thanks go out to you guys. Sorry this update has taken a little longer and it's my shortest yet. I'm getting lazy already. I've had a pretty packed last few days but I got to see Scott Pilgrim and meet Edgar Wright and Bryan Lee O'Malley. It was so good. Overwhelmingly so. The amount of times this chapter almost decended into an orgy of comic book violence is just ridiculous. I also have to make another apology for this chapter doesn't feature Nurse Emily. It went in another direction but I promise you, once Naomi gets home, Nurse Emily will make an appearnace.**

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She's been sat here talking to me for over forty minutes but I still can't get my head round her actually being here, in front of me. Stifling laughter when I get too excited about a subject and aggravate my head, trying to force a smile off her face every time I scowl in retaliation. I never knew the Campbell Death Glare could reduce someone into fits of giggles. Screw my leg, it's my reputation that's taking a serious bruising right now.

'You feel awfully strongly about this.'

'Of course I do! Everybody should.' Her lips quivers and she's finding me amusing again. I raise an eyebrow. 'I take it you don't?'

'Naomi...' She pauses, pouting slightly, her eyes glinting with mischief. 'I have an confession to make. I er, I never really read C.S. Lewis. Not really my thing...'

'You what?' I respond, gob-smacked. What self-respecting human being hasn't read C.S. Lewis?

'So the inclusion of Peter and Susan in the film adaptation of Voyage of the Dawn Shredder...'

'_Dawn Treader._'

'...doesn't really bother me.' She shrugs.

'But they're not in the book.' How can she not be grasping this?

'But you said it would only be a cameo right? So what's the big deal?' She's pushing my buttons on purpose. I can practically feel those dainty hands poking me into a fury.

'What's the big, what's the... it's the principle Emily, the _principle,_' and my resolve breaks. I can't even get to the end of the sentence without breaking into a smile to match hers which is now grinning brightly back at me. She's enjoying this far too much but I'll be damned if I'm not enjoying it just as much as she is.

'Remind me never to try and talk to you about movie mistakes ever again.'

'Hey, if that's not a movie mistake then I don't know what is. And after your recent admission, I'm not sure if I ever want to speak to you ever again anyways so...' Emily gasps and slaps me on the arm playfully.

'Cheeky,' she teases, again in that husky voice that sends shivers down my spine. I look down to where her hand is still resting on my arm. She notices my gaze and quickly pulls it away, a blush appearing on her cheeks. But I'm too fast, I catch her fingers in mine and tug ever so slightly, drawing her eyes to mine.

'Emily,' I say softly, the mood shifting suddenly as I let the conversation fall into silence. I can't understand it, she shouldn't be here. Talking for forty minutes and we haven't even breached the subject yet. I would have thought if she'd been attacked in her home but 24 hours ago it might have come up in conversation, but she seems oblivious. I saw her being attacked, I saw her being taken away. If I ask her about it she's going to think I'm bonkers and if I don't ask her about it I think I might burst.

'If you think any louder you're going to hurt yourself even more than you already have done Noams.' _Noams_. Where did that come from? And her other hand is now covering mine. Where did _that_ come from? Her fingers nails are flecked with an old coat of deep red nail polish, deep enough to match her hair. I can't tear my eyes off our hands, clasped together. Partly through fear of having to look Emily in the eyes and confront what I saw and partly because the image of our fingers entwined is almost mesmerising to me.

'You didn't see me in my flat Naomi,' her words break me out of my reverie. I look at her in confusion. 'Effy told me,' she explains with a shrug. Of course she did. God, she must think I'm a fucking psycho. Both of them. _Fuck fuck fuck!_ I jerk my hand away but with unusual strength for her size she keeps hold. 'Naomi,' she begins, a sudden urgency in her voice and fear in her eyes which wasn't there before. 'Tell me what you saw.'

'You'll think I'm fucking crazy Ems.'

She smiles a reassuring smile now, squeezing my hand ever so slightly. 'Maybe I will, maybe I wont. But what you've divulged today has already lead me to believe you're well and truly mad so humor me?' She tilts her head to one side, 'Please'. And I find that I can't say no.

I swallow, hard. The blood begins to rush to my head and I feel dizzied by the notion of having to sort through the pieces of this jigsaw with Emily, reveal what I saw to her. She gives my hand another reassuring squeeze though as I lie my head back on my pillow, needing its support, it feeling much softer than it had done several hours ago. I close my eyes briefly and then stare at the ceiling, anywhere but Emily and her desperate eyes.

'I saw you, in your flat. There was a man, I couldn't see his face, and he was, he was, it looked like he was attacking you,' the last part comes out almost as a question and I realise I'm pleading with Emily to confirm what I'm saying, to dissipate any suggestions of madness on my part. I risk a glance to Emily, hoping to find that confirmation in her eyes but all I see are the cogs turning behind them, but coming to what conclusion? She nods to me to continue. So I do.

'So I, I panicked. I thought about calling the police but the chance of them getting to the building in time was pretty much zero so I went up there myself. To your flat.' At this I hear her sigh to the left of me.

'Naomi, you idiot,' she she's shaking her head now, her eyes dark. And now I really do feel like an idiot. When I woke up to find pins in my leg I still had my pride intact, when I spewed over Doctor Tosser's shoes there was no chink in my armour and even when I was face to face with my mother, screeching at me, _'how could you have been so stupid!'_, I felt nothing if not self-righteous. But now, now I feel like an idiot. Since when did I let a pretty girl have such a hold over me? Yes she's intriguing, and yes she can get under my clothes anytime she likes, but under my skin? That doesn't happen. But it has and I can't stand it. I did what I did for _her_. I risked my life for a girl I barely know and that should be idiotic but it isn't because already I know I'd do it again. In an instant I'd do it again.

She brings my hand close to her lips and I can feel her warm breath on my skin, making goose bumps rise all over my body. She captures my eyes and the look of disapproval I expect to find in them is nowhere to be seen. Instead she fixes me with a burning gaze and I feel short of breath.

'You should have called the police...' she says, measured and sincere.

'What? And let him do whatever the fuck he liked with you?'

'It wasn't me Naomi!' What? So she does think I'm crazy. All those warm smiles, her fingers entwined tightly with mine. She wants me to humor her when she obviously has no intention of humoring me.

'I saw what I saw Emily. I'm not crazy...I. It's must sound crazy to you but I'm not...' I look her dead in the eyes, daring her to say any different. Her eyes soften as she sees the distress in mine, she lets her lips settle on my knuckles as she places the briefest of kisses there.

'I believe you Naoms, I do.' A sad smile plays on her features. 'But it still wasn't me.' Okay, forget what I said before, I must be crazy because none of this is making any sense. Seeing my confusion Emily continues. 'I have a sister Naomi. I haven't seen her for months now. She took off in hysterics shortly after her boyfriend passed away. She was paranoid.'

'But I saw _you_,' I tug at her hand, making my point.

She shrugs. 'We're twins,' oh. I blink. _OH! _'So you see, you didn't see what you thought you saw'.

'But if someone really was attacked in your apartment then we need to contact the police,' I try and reason with her. She's known all this time that her sister was attacked in her apartment, or at least had a suspicion. Effy told her what I thought I saw, how can she be so calm about this? She's been sat in here talking to me for the better part of an hour about anything and everything when her sister might have been attacked and kidnapped in her own flat? That's not what I call a proportionate response.

She nodded though. 'I did. As soon as Effy told me what you'd said. They said they'd send someone over when I got home but I don't know, I've been home and it was how I left it. My door was even locked. I didn't suspect a thing until Effy called.'

'Whoever it was must have gone back, straightened things out. Covered his tracks you know?' Emily nods silently, now starring into the middle distance, her eyes shifting out of focus.

'Aren't you worried about her, your sister?'

'Yes, but worrying wont get me anywhere. When she left I filed a missing persons report but the police said there was nothing they could do as she left on her own accord. I told them she was afraid of something, running from someone but they wouldn't listen to me. Why should they? So I'd prefer to worry about something I can actually do something about.' She looks at me now and smiles. _She means me. _My stomach flip flops uncharacteristically and suddenly I'm jumping into action.

'Maybe if I gave a statement...'

'Naomi, trust me. Leave it okay.' But I can't, the warning in her voice triggering a thousand questions to reverberate around my mind. She knows more than she's letting on, she's protecting me from something, something I wasn't supposed to stumble upon, something that almost got me killed. But I still need to know.

'Why did she leave Emily? What did she tell you?'

'Please Naomi, leave it. For me? It's not worth it.' She's practically begging me now, with her voice, her words, her eyes.

'So you're telling me that I should just forget I saw your sister get attacked and dragged away to God knows where by some fucking psycho in a hoodie?' I can't quite believe it but she's nodding at me now. What scares her so much that she's willing to ignore the possible abduction of her own sister?

'Yes. Katie's tough. She can handle herself.'

'Obviously not...' I state the obvious with a little more venom than I intended. Her hands flinch in mine but she doesn't remove them. Her eyes are guarded now and a long silence falls between us. I wonder if I pushed to hard. But there's one more thing that's bothering me and I satisfy my curiosity.

'Ems?' She meets my gaze, her eyes shining with unshed tears. I swallow. 'How did her boyfriend die?'

'I have to go,' she says abruptly, rising to her feet, removing her hands from mine and fussing with her handbag. I feel cold without her skin upon mine. But as quickly as she's gone, she's back. Warm hands find their way behind my neck as she presses hot lips against mine, pushing my head back into my pillow. It's desperate as we linger for a moment before Emily pulls away, grabbing her handbag and making for the door. _Did Emily just...?_ I shake my head . That would explain the daze I now find myself in. 'I'll come back and see you tomorrow?' she says quickly, almost stumbling over her words as she stumbles for the door. But I wont let her escape that easily. Not after that.

'So Emily, are you and Katie identical?' I call after her, quickly re-establishing my witty exterior. She pauses with her hand on the door handle as if carefully considering her answer. She turns, but just her head, to face me.

'Technically speaking, yes.' Her cheek twitches. Right, I see, they don't get along.

I decide to turn the screw a little. If she can kiss and run, I can have a little tease of my own. 'So there are two of you?'

'I suppose so.' There goes that twitch again. I grin. I like being able to read people, especially when it makes things this interesting.

'Sweet,' I say, nodding as my smile grows.

Emily scowls a little but I can tell she's enjoying this little exchange too and now it's her turn to tease. 'She wouldn't like you,' she says dismissively, her nose ever so slightly in the air.

'Why the hell not?' I retort, mock offended. I think I could do this all day every day. Unless we went back to the kissing thing, that I could most definitely do all day every day.

'Because she's a bitch,' she explains. And I know, even though we've descended into shameless flirting once more, this is the God's honest truth in Emily's eyes.

'Oh, so you're the good twin,' I conclude, throwing the slightest of winks her way.

'Not quite,' and with that she's gone. Back to our building, back to her flat. I need to get out of this hospital!

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**Author's note: So one question answered but more raised. Damn. Hope you enjoyed it. Thank you so much for reading and please review if you feel the wind's taking you. Oh, and I've never read C.S. Lewis. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own Skins or Rear Window, or anything else I've randomly referenced in here. They're all much loved however.**

**Author's note: The first thing I have to do is apologise. I'm so sorry for the lack of updates. I've been a bit busy over the last two weeks and haven't been able to put aside the time to write. I've noticed everything is moving rather slow with this so I'll try and pick up the pace a little. Sorry for any typos, any mistakes are mine. My eyes are closing on their own accord right now. And as always, thank you for your reviews!**

The hospital couldn't hold me. Well, it did for one more night, but as soon as I could convince my mum to rent me a wheelchair I was out of there. I had to sign something to say I'd refused treatment but anything to get me out of that place as quickly as possible was fine by me.

I know a lot of people don't like hospitals, it's a bit of a cliché right? Everyone has a hospital story. Some haunting experience with bad memories conjured up by the sterility of it all, the smell, the impending doom. I don't have a story, I just don't like them. Fact. I don't like how they force me completely out of my comfort zone. I'm the one being prodded and observed, stuck in a bed on display. Too much time to think behind a curtain, by myself. Too much time for my thoughts to dwell on my mangled leg, my university prospects that lay in tatters and those two red heads that seem to some how be the cause of it all.

How have I managed to fuck it up so royally in such a short space of time? My mother would tell me that it's an inability to keep my nose out of other people's business. To which my response would be, _piss off you old hag_, twinned with the slightly more civil, _I couldn't just stand there and watch it happen. _My mother is wrong; my mother is always wrong, but what worries me is that I'm right. I couldn't stand there and watch it happen but if it was cigarette smoking man from a couple of flats over, I would have. I would have just let nature run it's course.

It was something Effy and I had always agreed on. You can watch, but don't get involved because at the end of the day, it's not worth it. You might know them better than they know themselves but they don't give a flying fuck about you. She's often told me that's why she has such a passion for photography. She can watch, but watching through a lens allows her to detach and lose that subjectivity. Like a barrier. It's just as real but feels so much more artificial. Which is why she'll never take one single photo of me. She's doesn't want to lose that attachment. She wont admit it but it scares her more than she lets on. Like in the hospital room, I could see I'd scared her but she'd never vocalise such it, she's Effy Stonem. Wouldn't want to break that mystique. She's built up quite a reputation.

I know that I've scared her right at this very moment as she's doing something I've never seen her do before. She's fussing. It'd be almost cute if she wasn't so good at it. Effy can fuss like no other. She's got everything under control. I'm currently propped up in bed, leg slightly raised, adorned in duvets and blankets and sipping my third cup of _sleepy time_ in the last hour and a half. This is excellent. I'm on some pain killer concoction which has pretty much turned the lower half of my body into jelly and I feel awesome. There was this guy at college who used to talk at me about all the weird shit he'd take daily, and one time he described to me this ridiculous amalgamation of vimto and co-codomol that you'd heat and, ugh, I don't know, do something with and what he described is exactly what I'm feeling now. Why wasn't I his friend? Oh, that's right, because he was a tosser.

I think I'm starting to need the loo though. This I haven't considered yet, for this I am unprepared. If I don't think about it, it's not there. This is a technique I've employed rather effectively over the past few days. My leg hurts! _No it doesn't, it's just a figment of your stupid imagination Naomi!_ My head is fuzzy. _Buck up maggot!_ Emily kissed me. _No she didn't, and since we're on the subject, who's this Emily you speak of? _

'I'll make another pot of tea I suppose, Emily will be round soon. Said she be over about 6ish.' She what? Who? More tea? I don't think...I don't think I can handle... ignorance is bliss, bliss!

'Toilet!' I blurt out. Effy stops in my doorway and turns back round to face me. She's looking at me, vexed. She gestures behind her.

'Tea. For Emily. If you need me just shout.' She goes to turn on her heel once more.

'No Eff.' I cringe a little as she comes to an abrupt halt, the hint of desperation now creeping into my voice catching her attention. 'I need the fucking toilet don't I.' It wasn't a question. I throw an apologetic smile her way, shrugging my shoulders to hide the blush appearing on my cheeks. There's a beat where we both stand on silence until she curls her top lip a little in resignation, a little in disgust.

'Fine.'

* * *

After a rather arduous struggle, Effy and I succeed in getting me to the toilet. Eff insists on watching me pee, in case I have a stroke whilst on the loo or something. Not at all because she wants to make me as uncomfortable as humanly possible. I tell her I can't go with her watching, to which she responds with a malevolent smirk, 'You're going to have to get used to it aren't you?'.

'I want a catheter'.

'No you don't. Catheters are for people who are actually ill Naomi, you're just stupid. And you have far too much pride intact after a fall _that_ spectacular.' After that proverbial shot to the kidneys Effy deposits me on my chair in the lounge. She drags the puffett over and carefully props my leg upon it and after smothering me in blankets once again, pads through to the kitchen to stick the kettle on.

My head lolls to my left and I have my first gaze across the yard since the incident. They're calling it an accident but I'm insisting on incident. Even though it can't be later than 5.30pm, the sky's dark and the wind is gusting around the building, buffeting the window ever so slightly, causing it to rock gently back and forth in it's frame. Rain lashes against the pane, slightly obscuring my view. It's September and it's already raining non stop. I shouldn't be surprised though, considering it's been one of the wettest summers of recent years.

I can hear the clink of mugs in the kitchen and I know that more tea is on the cards. My attention is averted from the prospect of more trips to the toilet by movement from across the playground. One floor up, second to the right. A man has just sat down at a piano. I hadn't even noticed the piano almost flush to the window until now. The rain seems to clear as my eyes pull their focus. The man's eyes are closed as he runs his fingers gently across the surface of the smooth white keys. He feels out all the imperfections in the ivory, the grooves between each key. Maybe he's touching the piano for the first time, aquatinting himself with the feel of keys under his fingers. His face is pulled into one of concentration, his brow knotted. He pauses, his hands now still in front of him, fingers splayed in a familiar stance as if ready to play. But he doesn't. He opens his dark eyes and slowly lifts his left hand, placing his index finger on the top most black key. He holds it there closes his eyes once more as he drags his finger down, striking each black key on the way down without playing a single note. His shoulders sag as if he's just let out a laboured sigh. He runs his spare hand over his very short dark hair, trying to quell the tension in his body, and then he's still. His finger resting on the final black key.

Or maybe this is the first time he's touched the piano in a long time.

He hammers his finger down violently on the key but the sound doesn't reach my ears. Then slams the lid down, hiding the offending keys and quickly rises to his feet, throwing the stool backwards. He gathers himself, fists balling at his sides, before stalking deeper into his flat and out of view. I wait, eyes fixed on the window, in case he returns to the piano. Five minutes pass as I stare blankly at the spot where I last saw the piano man. I wonder if he plays, or how well he plays. Maybe he's a master who lost his ability to play when the love of his life left him, taking with her his desire to hear or play any melody that would remind him of their happier times together before sadness crept into their lives. Sounds crazy, sounds like a movie. But some of the best movies are true stories. I made Eff watch the Blind Side with me. She fell asleep.

'Effy! Can we watch a film tonight?' I call to the kitchen, which Effy emerges from, carrying a tray holding a tea pot, a milk jug and some mugs. I notice one of them is the one I bought her as a joke Christmas present the first year of college. _A Prozac A Day Keeps The Voice Away_. She didn't talk to me until Boxing Day after that but now she uses it every time she has a cuppa. It's well stained which I interpret as well loved.

She shrugs, non committal as usual, after she places the tray on the puffet next to my leg. 'Don't move,' she warns me.

I glare at her, she's provoking me again. 'As if I could'.

'You'd find a way'. And concerned Effy has left the building Ladies and Gentleman. She drapes herself across the sofa and props her head up on her elbow so she can look at me. 'Emily'll be here soon.' She fixes me with a stare, catching my eyes. And all of a sudden I feel under complete scrutiny. She's gauging my reaction, she _wants_ me to react. So I do. I smile.

'Great. Did you invite her?'.

Effy takes a moment to respond, she's not smiling. She's carefully choosing her words, working out what buttons to press. 'She called earlier. You were asleep. She said she wanted to see you, still feels bad about what happened at the hospital. Something about baking?'.

'Well, that's certainly very kind of her.' I have no idea what's going on. She pushing me but I don't know where.

'It is isn't it?' She's certainly smiling now. Her lip's curled; it's almost unnoticeable but it's definitely there. She has the carpet firmly gripped and she's about to pull it out from under me, I can feel it. I'm a sitting duck and all I can do is wait. 'So, what _did_ happen?'.

I roll my eyes. It doesn't help that even I'm not sure what did actually happen in Emily's apartment. And after Emily's warning, the last thing I want to be doing is running my mouth and dragging other people into this fucking mess. 'I told you Eff. I thought I saw someone in Emily's flat...'

'From the Hospital?' she asks serenely, her eyes suddenly alive with curiosity.

'Uh huh?' I nod. She pushes herself up and now she's sat on the sofa, elbows on her knees, leaning towards me.

'From the The Hospital?' I'm caught in her eyes. Shit. I blink and she sees me remember. Emily's soft lips pressed to mine, my breath hitched in my chest, her long eyelashes tickle my cheek. I blink again to trying to hide the memory that's playing on my features. If I don't think about it it's not there right? But it is and she's got me. Well, they both have.

'Er,' is all I manage when a knock sounds from the door. Effy practically grins at me and slinks slowly over to the door. With her hand on the latch she turns to me, winks, and then swings the door open.

And there she is. Emily. She is there and I am definitely thinking about her. She greets Effy awkwardly; a little smile, a duck of the head and I think I can make out a 'Hi'. Effy moves aside and lets her shuffle through into the living room. She looks round, dark orbs resting momentarily on an object before flitting to the next, never finding their way to me. She blinks up at Effy who has appeared beside her.

'I brought some cake,' she offers a piece of tupperware to Effy who silently takes it, 'Shop bought this time though I'm afraid. I was planning to make something but I've been a bit all over the place the last few days,' she smiles, almost embarrassed. What happened to the confident girl who well and truly put me in my place at the hospital? I widen my eyes at Effy, urging her to say something to make the poor girl a bit more comfortable.

Effy just shrugs so I glare now causing her to roll her eyes at me. 'Don't worry about it Emily. Cake is... cake'.

_Good fucking job Eff. _ 'Thanks Ems,' I add in an attempt to make up for Effy's sudden lack of manners, gratitude or use of her voice and maybe in a slight attempt to get Emily to pay me some kind of attention. Though Eff seems to realise maybe a little more effort is needed and adds a quick thank you before going to the kitchen to cut a few slices and fetch some plates leaving Emily and I alone in the living room.

She stands quietly with her hands clasped in front of her, her fringe almost completely hiding her eyes which shift slowly in my direction. A conspiritory smile appears on her face, 'Can you imagine us getting coffee?' she asks quietly, out of Effy's ear shot. 'God it was awful. Funny looks, uncomfortable silences.' I laugh at the thought. I'd completely forgotten Effy was out with Emily when the 'incident' occurred. She smiles wider at the sound of my laughter. It's strange that's it's always been Effy and me, inseparable. No one all throughout college managed to penetrate our tight little duo; we were never a threesome or foursome. Just us. But now here's Emily, round for tea, bringing us cake, taking us for coffee and campus tours. I'm surprised Effy even agreed to go with Emily, considering her apparent indifference all of a sudden. But here she is and Effy's made us all tea. Sometimes not even I can fathom the labyrinth that is Effy's brain. She always has her reasons though, she always does.

I shake my head, 'She likes you though,' I'm sure of it.

'Hmm you sure about that?' she asks, eyebrows raised. Not only is she cute as a button but she's a mind reader too.

'Of course she's sure,' With plates laden with cake, Effy marches through and settles them down on the coffee table. Emily's cheeks turn a similar colour to her hair but before she has a moment to stutter out an apology Effy grabs her by the wrist and drags her to the sofa. 'Sit the fuck down Emily,' so she does. Hands again, clutched in her lap, back straight. There's a silence now as Effy leans back into the sofa, eyes flicking from me to Emily, back to me. 'Sugar Emily?'

'What? Oh, no, thank you.' Effy nods slightly and leans forward again, concocting various different combinations of sugar, milk and tea. Effy drinks hers black because she's a weirdo. I have mine very milky with one and a half sugars because I'm awesome. She hands Emily my tea which she passes round, turning it in her hands so I can take the handle as not to burn my fingers. I smile my thanks and she smiles back. This is weird, good but weird. Three of us.

'How are you feeling?' she ask me.

'Not too bad considering. I can't really feel my legs which is probably for the best. I'm trying not to think about what it'll be like when I can,' I laugh uncomfortably again and quickly go for a sip of tea. 'Hot, fuck!' Effy tsks me but Emily laughs and I laugh along with her. 'Burned my tongue,' I grimace for effect.

'Has she always be this clumsy?' Emily asks Effy.

'No, never,' she responds. _What the fuck is her problem? _

'I'll have you know I have always possessed the ability to injure myself unnecessarily. It's a skill.' That was supposed to be me sticking up for myself?

'Well Emily and I have come to an arrangement with which, fingers crossed, can prevent you from doing anymore unnecessary damage to yourself,' Emily nods enthusiastically and picks up where Effy left off.

'Next week is Fresher's week...'

'...Don't remind me.'

'And there's quite a lot to see and do so Effy's not going to be around to make sure you don't get yourself into anymore trouble.'

'I'll be alright by myself Eff,' but Effy waves me away, gesturing to me that I should hear Emily out.

'So we were thinking when Effy's busy, I'll try and spend some time over here with you'. I'm suddenly of the opinion that I may in fact not be alright by myself. 'Second years don't start till the week after so I don't mind taking some time to help you out with things. Even if it's just picking up some shopping...'

'Or helping you go to the toilet...' Effy chimes in.

'Piss off Eff,' I growl but she ignores me, laughing quietly at her own wit. 'Sounds great Ems', I continue, 'I mean that's really kind of you. Of course if you're too busy it's not a problem but another pair of hands might be useful...'

'I thought you said you'd be alright by yourself Noams,' says Effy, stirring the pot just as much as ever.

'Effy would you just...!'

'I really don't mind. I'm literally just waiting for Uni to start now. I've got some reading I need to get done but I can do that anywhere. So it's decided?' she asks, an assertive smile on her face. A smile that tells me if I say yes I'm giving her exactly what she wants. How could I say no and deprive such an adorable creature?

'Yes,' I relent and Effy reclines even further on the sofa, eyes going to the ceiling. 'Cheers'.

Emily takes a sip of her tea and smiles behind her mug. 'No problem.'

The three of us stay like that for a while. Chatting about uni life; where the best places to drink are, where we can find decent food for good prices. Emily's in her second year which surprises me considering how pocket sized she is. She's like the Berliner of the natural world. She may be small but she's got everything you'd ever want from a newspaper. Especially if you're a liberal, leftist, Guardian reader like myself.

After my third slice of Jamaican Ginger Cake I come to a very important conclusion.

'I want to watch a film!' I announce. 'Slave number one', I point to Effy, 'Entertain me!'. I here her mumble something about breaking the other one before she roles off the couch and heads to the television set. 'Slave number two, have you seen She Devil?'. Emily looks a little frightened to give an answer as she shakes her head from side to side slowly.

'Slave number one, make it so!'

* * *

Effy's asleep again. It's only just gone 8pm and she's asleep. Rosanne is just about to blow up her house and Emily is curled up on the couch, her knees tucked under her chin, her eyes sparkling in the light of the television. She's giggling to herself every time Meryl Streep speaks which is overwhelmingly adorable.

I let my eyes wonder over Emily and across towards the window. The nights are getting darker and many people have turned the lights on across the yard. Emily's window is dark but the window next door is dimly illuminated by what looks to be lamp light from somewhere within the flat. An ashtray is perched on the open window cil and I realise that the flat next door to Emily's is the flat of cigarette smoking man, but he's not at his window tonight.

'Who's the guy who lives next door to you Ems?' She looks over at me, a little confused, a little distracted by the crazy people on the tv.

'Which one?' She stretches a little and lets out a small yawn.

'The one with the light on.' She shuffles round on the couch to look behind her to identify the offending window.

'Oh, that's Cook. Why, has he talked to you?' her voice tremors, almost unnoticeably and her eyes fill with worry. Boring into mine with concern.

'No, no,' I say quickly to ease her worry. 'Just curious is all. Saw him smoking a fag out the window the other day with some girl.' She exhales quickly, bitterly, and moves back round, back to the film.

'Him and Katie used to...'

'Oh, right.'

'He was mates with Katie's boyfriend.'

'Oh..._right. _Bit of a wanker then'.

'You could say that.' Her eyes don't move from the tv but I can see the distain she holds for this Cook reflected in them.

We sit in silence for a little longer, both laughing every so often at some crazy stunt as my attention slowly turn back to my window. I can just about make out a window on the ground floor. A blonde haired girl is sat at a dressing table in nothing but her underwear. She takes a brush and slowly moves it through her thick hair, running her fingers through and taking it up into a ponytail that flows fluidly down her back. Once she's done she places the hair brush into an ornate music box. She twists the mechanism and the ballerina on top starts to dance slowly to the silent music. The girl stares at herself in the mirror but doesn't really see herself. She reaches to the light fixture on the table and her window goes dark.

Just as one light goes off another comes on over by Emily's flat. Cook's returned. Smoking once again, eyes dark, staring into nothingness. Bruises now colour his skin, purples, greens, yellows; over his left ribs and across his arm. His lip is busted and his right eye is puffy. Cook is turning out to be quite a mystery to me. Someone I have to watch, learn his habits, understand his motivations. He's a curiosity. And a dangerous one at that by the looks of things. But I have to know. I've never been able to help myself. Which is why I'm sitting here with my leg pinned and in a cast.

Soft fingers capture my cheek and drag my attention from the window to another pair of dark eyes which are now far closer than they were a few minutes ago. The film is forgotten about as she warns me again. 'I told you to leave it Naomi. Okay?'.

Leave what, Cook?

'Don't get involved anymore than you already have. Promise me?' Her hands are cupping my cheeks now as I nod slowly, still trapped by her eyes. Her right thumb smoothes over my eyebrow. Without thinking I move my hands to behind her neck and pull her towards me slowly. I capture her bottom lip with mine, biting down lightly as her fingers curl in my blonde hair. My heart begins to beat out of my chest. She tastes like cherries, and I've never really liked cherries but this is different. This is incredible.

I realise she's stooping down awkwardly because of my leg so I reach out for her waist, drawing her closer to me, forcing her to sit with a knee either side of my hips. It doesn't feel forward or too intimate, it just feel right. I notice her breathing become heavy as I tangle my fingers in red hair and trail feverent kisses down her neck. I'm rewarded with a quiet whimper as I suck a little on her pulse point, which causes a heat to spread in the pit of my stomach. The sudden rush of pleasure makes me jerk my head back, breaking contact with her hot skin. 'Fuck. I...' I'm moving way too fast here. I might want her but this isn't what I want. Not right away anyway. Her eyes find mine and she looks confused, hurt even. I try to speak to explain but my mouth just flaps idiotically. 'I, er...'

Before I get a chance to explain she's extracting herself from me, she thinks she's done something wrong. Fuck. 'No, Emily!' I hiss, careful not to wake a sleeping Effy as I grab her hips in an attempt to stop her retreat. 'Emily don't,' I plead, ' I just got a little carried away. I'm sorry. I don't want you to leave, you haven't done anything wrong. I'm a dick'. It all came out a bit of a jumbled mess but I can see her relax when she hears my words, slouching in my lap. She finally looks up at me through her fringe, a little embarrassed.

'I think we both got a little carried away,' she says with a little twitch of her eyebrow. 'It's nice though, sometimes'.

'It is nice,' I nod. She leans forward this time and I can feel her smile into my kiss before running her tongue across my bottom lip. My hands find residence, tracing circles over the smooth skin of her back as I grant her the access she's been asking for. She tastes like cherries, and it's nice.

**Author's note: Hope you all enjoyed it. Thank you for reading! And please hit that review button, all your feedback is very much appreciated and really makes my day. Cheers!**


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Skins or Rear Window, please don't shoot!**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello to everyone. I have to apologise for not updating, AT ALL since… well… let's just say it's been a long time. This chapter isn't my best but I needed to get the ball rolling. Uni is almost over, forever. Just got a few more hand ins and then it wont dominate my life so much. I've had severe writers block but I think I'm back on track, with a re-write to the story a little which I hope will spruce things up a bit, at least dust off a few cobwebs in my brain. Hope you enjoy!**

'Aren't you worried about her?' I whisper, my breath tickling her forehead. I feel her shrug in my arms. She's curled up next to me on the chair, the side of her head resting upon my shoulder, her legs swung over my lap. Although it's dark I can see her smile sadly to herself as she plays with the hem on my shirt.

'She's always been able to take care of herself.' Now it's my turn to sigh. I remove my hand from its very comfortable spot in the small of her back to gently tuck away a few mischievous hairs that have made their way down to hide her eyes from me, behind her ear. She smiles again now, a happier smile, and leans into my touch.

'Didn't look like it the other day.' I run my knuckles lightly over her cheek, my fingers trace across the curve of her ear and lose themselves in her soft red hair. She closes her eyes now and nuzzles closer, her little nose presses against my neck, sending a shiver though me. She laughs now, though I'm not sure whether it's with delight or exasperation, a deep throaty laugh against my skin.

'What did I say to you about getting involved?' She asks, her voice sing-song, like a parent reminding a child not to run too close to the side of the stream just after they've taken a watery tumble. She wasn't angry though, she was teasing me now.

I make a throaty, 'Hmm', whilst pretending to consider her words. 'You may have said don't, although I'm not quite sur..?' My sentence is left hanging as Emily takes my chin between her thumb and forefinger and turns my head to look at her. Our eyes meet and I'm reminded once more of how I got into this damned chair in the first place, not that I want to be anywhere other than this damned chair at this very moment in time. Emily's tone may have been teasing but her eyes told me to take her seriously.

'And what are you doing?' Her left eyebrow twitches and I know that it means I should leave my sarcasm at the door.

'Getting involved,' I relent. The corner of her mouth curls into a small, involuntary smile which broadens to a grin as I dart forward to capture it with my lips. She laughs again, unguardedly this time and it's then I decide I need more laughter in my life. More of Emily's laughter. Not muffled or muted by distance or double glazing but here at touching distance, more of her shy smiles as she fiddles nervously with hems or buttons. Her laughter subsides gently after a while as she relaxes again into the chair, only to be stirred by aftershocks that shake her body gently. She sighs as her giggling ceases and thumbs a button on my cardie. She speaks softly now, her eyes unfocused, lost in middle distance.

'You don't take instruction well do you.' She says, resigned. It isn't a question. The proof is in the pudding. I rest my head on the back of the chair and close my eyes. My breath catches violently, dull pain is beginning to return to my leg, a hot throb melting the marrow there, setting the nerves on fire. Emily jumps from the chair as if scolded, her eyes wide with guilt.

'I should go, you need to rest.' She thinks she's hurt me. But I have hold of her hand, tight. She pulls a little but I don't let go. I raise my trademark eyebrow that says, _really_? Even in the darkness I'm sure I can see a blush begin to form on her face, embarrassed by her overreaction. She eyes the floor now.

'You're not going to let me go are you?' She swings her hand a little and in turn swings mine. Or she's swinging both our hands, together. Not quite sure.

I grin and shake my head. 'Nope.'

'In that case then…' She smirks, and leans down, claiming my lips. She bites down gently causing me to relax the grip on her hand just enough so she can slip her fingers free. She lets out a satisfied laugh and begins to slink down the hall toward my bedroom. I try and shuffle in my chair to get a better look.

'Going to slip into something more comfortable?' I joke, thinly veiling my optimism.

She pauses and turns back to me, her eyes dark, full of possibility and my breath catches again; not a symptom of the pain emanating from my leg but because of the possibility my thinly veiled optimism is as thinly veiled as her indifference. I can see the cogs ticking over in her head. She doesn't want me to be joking but right now maybe I need to be. She's caught between what she wants and what she needs, and I can tell you from my experience of people, all shapes and sizes, they always go with what they want eventually. So reluctantly, I make the decision for her. I break the tension, I play the fool.

I wiggle my eyebrows and she laughs again, throwing her head back this time so I can see the soft skin on her neck reverberate with the sound; my karmic reward for doing the right thing.

'No pervert, ' she hustles back over to the chair, slaps me playfully on the arm and darts back down the hall. 'I'm going to the toilet!' she calls over her shoulder, and disappears into the bathroom. I hear the door click and then the lock go. I never lock the door to the bathroom when there's no one to keep out. Effy's snoring quietly in the corner and I'm a cripple so who's Emily trying to keep out? A regular person would put it down to habit but I'm not exactly regular. Everyone does everything for a reason and there's something she's hiding from, or hiding from me… or both. Her sister's missing and possibly in grave danger yet she does nothing. She's either heartless or afraid and I don't think I'd be too crazy to go with the latter.

I glance outside again, Cook's light is on but he's absent from his post. Although it would be easy for me to connect the dots and say it's him who has Emily spooked, Emily could just move. Why live next door to a dude who scares the shit out of you and is possibly involved in your sister's disappearance? Your sister's _double_ disappearance.

But then why the bruises? He was black and blue earlier. Though not necessarily related, the bruises could have been caused by the desperately flailing arms and legs of a small red-haired girl. Or maybe I'm just over thinking everything. Maybe Cook has nothing to do with any of this and Emily is just afraid for her sister, afraid of not knowing as appose to afraid of what she knows. But _I_ need to know. I want to be able to tell her _everything will be alright_ and I can't if I don't know. I want to protect her and I can't protect her from what _I_ _don't know_.

I shake my head and my brain takes a painful tumble inside my skull. I need more painkillers. I screw up my eyes and begin to clamp my jaw to try and dissipate the pain. _Ow, ow, ow._ Why the fuck do I care, why do I need to know so bad? _Look at the mess you're already in. _

As mine and probably everybody else's mother says, curiosity killed the cat. And Effy often makes the old joke about cats having nine lives. If that's the case, I'm pretty sure I lost a good three or four of them at the bottom of that staircase. Although I bet if Eff took that fall she would have somehow landed on her feet without a scratch on that pretty head of hers. I look at her, curled up on the sofa, moonlight softly illuminating her face. She's always reminded me of a cat, and never more so than she does now. Legs pulled in, knees grazing her chin. When I first knew her she was a stray and I don't think that's ever really left her, not fully. She's still as slender, her gorgeous blue eyes always alert, always watching. I owned a cat once, when I was younger. It was fat, extremely fat. We once bought it a kitty-lead to take it out for walkies… but it was too fat to fit it. So nothing like Eff in that respect. But all it did, day in-day out, was watch from a vantage point at a window or rooftop. Eyes narrowed, waiting for the slightest sign of movement, ready to pounce. It never caught anything mind you, but Effy always does. She caught me for one thing. A rather fine catch if I do say so myself.

I smile. Things would work out. What's not to smile about? I have two heavenly creatures at my beck and call. This is Ace, I could get used to this. I can maybe do some assignments at home till I can get into class. I wont fall behind… well, maybe on the social front but that wasn't exactly on my agenda in the first place.

I delve into one of my ultra-attractive cardigan pockets and fish out a blister pack of pills. Popping two, I reach forward for my cold tea, just about managing to slip my fingers through the handle before it falls to the floor. I grimace as I swallow the tea and pill concoction. It's cold and gross as the milk has started to form a film on the surface. Wedging the cup between my thigh and the arm of the chair, I close my eyes, wishing the pain away.

Why do I want her? Is it her or the mystery she holds? - If it's the mystery then I'll end up hurting her. If it's her, I'll probably end up hurting her anyway. Though the fact that I care at all is a good indication that the reason I want to work her out is more than just… me wanting to work her out. She's different somehow.

Maybe I want her to work _me_ out. I don't do all this people watching and not learn anything about myself you know. But Eff and I have always been content. Knowing each other and only each other. We will always push people away so that people come looking for us, and I'm a main offender.

'Are you going to sleep there?' I snap out of my reverie. I didn't hear the flush go, she better have flushed.

I keep my eyes closed, if she sees in, she'll know. I shrug a little. 'I'm thinking about it.'

'Come on, let's get you to bed.' I smell her first, fruity- _maybe strawberries_? I didn't even realise I knew her scent but with my eyes closed I realise I could probably pick her out in a room full of Hair and Beauty students. Then her arms sneak under mine and I feel her begin to tug me up. I moan a little but rouse, placing my hands firmly on the arms of the chair. Emily lifts and I almost forget the cold tea wedged by my side. I save it and we begin the struggle to my bedroom, Emily on one side, a crutch on the other.

She sets me down on my bed and steps back for a moment, taking in the sight of me. Groggy, tired and helpless. _Sexy_. She smiles, hands on hips, head to one side. I think she's enjoying this a little too much. I pout and she shakes her head as she pulls my cardigan up over mine. 'Arms up, that's it', then my T-shirt.

'Get used to this bitch.' The moment the words leave my mouth I realise the state of my undress. Emily is undressing me, Emily undressing me. _Bra and shorts, great. _Emily is looking anywhere but my face, or is that _everywhere_ but my face? I reach and flick my bedside lamp on, maybe not the best move when I'm barely dressed in front of a girl who one day I'd like to be barely dressed in front of and vice versa. The blush is very much visible in her cheeks now and I cringe a little inside. Maybe this beck and call thing wasn't the best idea. 'Because you're looking after me…my mind isn't always in the gutter.' I smile uneasily and blow a stray hair from my eyes. _You're a knob Naomi._

Her eyes catch mine, darker than before. She smiles at me and tugs a vest down over my head. 'That's a shame,' she shrugs, 'I'm a little disappointed'. It's my turn to blush now. Confident Emily is back with a vengeance and for a moment I forget about Cook in 5C, the missing sister and even my Frankenstein leg. I don't want her for their mysteries, secrets, and infidelities. I want her because she can make _me_ blush. She's come looking for _me_.

I sit like a loser in front of her and find myself trying to keep my idiotic grin from getting out of hand, my hair sticking up at all angles, and I'd be content if she went home right now because I know she'd be thinking about _me_. Trying to work _me_ out, trying to work out _my_ secrets.

'Flirt in your own home please!' Effy's nonchalant voice floats through to my bedroom. Emily's eyes meet mine and we both have to try hard to stifle our laughter. She shakes her head and after a beat offers to let herself out.

'I'll see you tomorrow?'

I nod, 'I will not be going anywhere.' She gives one more disarming smile and then leaves, the door clicking behind her. I hear her and Effy exchange _Goodnights_ and then the front door goes. I want to get to my window for one more glance but I resign myself to sleep. I'll see her when she comes looking tomorrow.

**Author's note: Thanks for reading! Please review :-) **


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own Skins or Rear Window but if I did I'd probably still be writing this.**

**Author's note: Cheers to everyone who's reviewed and story alerted etc. I'm glad people are enjoying it. I might need a beta as I'm pretty sure I'm awful at proof reading and making sure everything flows and all that so if anyone would be kind enough to help me out drop me a message. I'd be very grateful. This is a short but important one. Hope you enjoy!**

I awake to the chortling of a boiling kettle, the clinking of china and teaspoons grazing the insides of tea cups. I groan and begin to roll onto my side, away from the soft sunlight radiating through the window. I'd comment on its beauty and serenity if it wasn't so f_ucking early! _ _Is it early?_ Effy's always up unnaturally early, bright eyed and bushy tailed, however wankered she may have been the night before. My legs feel heavy, like I've been weighted down and thrown in the Hudson. Like I'm hungover. When I drink the alcohol always goes to my legs in the morning, never to my head. My hips and knees usually ache as if I decided to run the London Marathon in the aid of CAMRA whilst hammered the night before . _Was I drunk last night? _ I don't remember having anything to drink. I try to roll over again, waving my hand wearily at the window, shooing the light back from wence it came.

An electric shock shoots through my right leg from the inside out, setting little fires on a journey from synapse to synapse, pillaging as it goes. A yelp of pain escapes me and I bite down on my bottom lip, tears welling in my eyes._ Fuck me! Shit, pissing, titty-fanny!_

I must have groaned louder than I thought because an unexpectedly dishevelled Effy Stonem appears at my doorway. Tea in hand but half on the floor, most likely having sloshed it out in the hall on her mad dash to my room. I look up at her, my eyes puffy, lip quivering, a few tears having escaped onto my cheek. 'I broke my leg?' I ask in disbelief, voice shrill, trying to form words through the pain. _Must remember not to move ever again_.

Effy nods, sympathetically'. Yeah hun, you did.' She moves quickly to my bed and sets the tea down on my bedside table, next to the wine glass from a few nights before. Rounding up my tears with her thumb she asks, 'Did you forget for a sec?' I nod and she exhales with relief. She probably thought I'd fallen out of bed and broken the other one. She kisses my forehead tenderly and scootches up so she can remove some pills from her back pocket. 'I was just bringing you these,' she waves them at me and they make that foily crunching sound blister pack pills always make, a sound that soothes my senses.

With a lot of wincing, moaning and huffing Effy manages to help me into a sitting position. I realise once I'm out of my covers that I'm cold and clammy. I must have fallen into a cold sweat when my painkillers wore off over night. _Disgusting_. I bet I stink too. Showering with this hulking great torture device on my leg isn't going to be easy and I'm pretty sure Effy is up to the task of making it even harder. Devil woman. Though that said, the supposed _Devil Woman_ hands me my painkillers and a cup of tea. She studies me with intrigue and pats me on the back as I choke on the pills with my haste to get the opiates into my system. The tea burns my throat but it's soothing. I nod my thanks.

Eff strokes some hair from my forehead and feigns disgust when she discovers its cemented in place with sweat. Did I mention disgusting? She shrugs and pops it behind my ear. 'I have to get to lectures,' she says apologetically.

My brow furrows in confusion. 'But it's Freshers Week...'

'I know but we have to register and meet our class. It's an induction thing,' she says, tilting her head to one side like she's already got this Uni thing down.

I scoff, surprised. 'When were you ever into induction things?'

'Don't rescue me only to put me straight back in the pound because you don't want to have to use those Naomi Campbell.' Effy points to the corner of my room where my crutches lie. I grumble, scolded. The thought of being left to fend for myself isn't a particularly pleasant one. I hate being a dependent, don't get me wrong. But the idea of being completely and utterly useless is something I hate even more than losing my independence.

'I'm going to try with this Uni thing okay? Let me try.' And how can I not? I suddenly realise how selfish I'm being. I made her come here, forced her to go through clearing, convinced her Uni was the way to go to get her life back on track. And now, when she needs me most, I'm stuck at home and she's left to fend for herself. But maybe it's what she needs, maybe it's what we both need. She's come a long way since I first met her, gone through a lot of shit; her parents divorce, what happened with her brother. And there's more stuff, stuff that even I don't know about, probably never will. But I know it's there, she's told me that much. I nod and she smiles sadly. She shouldn't need my permission.

'You alright?' I venture.

She tenses her shoulders and stares for a moment at my crutches, vacillating. 'They want me to go see that counsellor today,' she mutters after a beat. _Ah_. 'Just to get aquatinted I guess. See how I'm dealing with living away from home and stuff. The first few days are very important apparently,' she laughs bitterly now. 'This is much better than home,' she says, and I practically see one of Effy and Anthea's famous battles playing back across her eyes.

She shakes her said, chasing the memories away and glances up to meet my gaze. Now I feel like an absolute prick for being such a dick a moment ago. I squeeze her hand and try to make up for it, 'This is home.' And I mean it. 'I think you should go. If you don't like it, don't go back. Remember, Universities are businesses. You can always sue and get your money back.'

She throws me a tight smile and hastily wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, going to leave; retreating from a moment of weakness.

I sniff and reach for her in Hollywood desperation. 'Stay with me?' Don't leave me here!' Her mood breaks and she allows herself to laugh, throwing her head back maniacally, pushing my groping hands away. Either the drugs have already started to take hold or the sound of Effy's laughter is some kind of endorphin releaser. 'I'm all alone, there's no one here besides me...' I begin to croon, decrepitly.

'You'll be fine Naomi. Now stop before you hurt something else...'

I begin to ham it up a little. 'I'm all alone, quite alone.'

Eff throws bean bag lizard in my direction which I intercept with ease. _Skills_. 'Shut up Noams, you're never going to be the next Sinatra. I'll bring you some toast and snacks through before I...'

'Frank or Nancy? ...No one to comfort or guide me...'

She's paused at my door now, most of her body in the hall, head just peaking back inside. I throw the lizard back and it thumps unceremoniously off target and into the wall. She smirks at my very apparent lack of _skills_ now and plays her final hand. 'Emily will be here at lunch.' My mouth snaps shut. She delights in every word, cow.

Now I'm the one who's bright eyed and bushy tailed. She must have called Emily, they're in co-hoots! This should scare me, especially considering Effy is at the helm but it doesn't. And the singing stops as quickly as it started. Groans of relief audible from the surrounding buildings. 'Awesome. I'm all set. You can go.' I should be ashamed. Effy certainly is.

She shakes her head, 'Since when did you become such a sucker for a pretty face?'

'Since you stopped putting out bitch.' She flips me off, only after attempting to stifle a snort of laughter. With a wide, smug smile she turns on her heels and stalks back into the kitchen.

A few minutes later I hear the toaster ding and she's back through with two slices of toast smothered in humus, a packet of biscuits and my share size Maltesers. _Result! I'd forgot about those_. I'm pretty sure I'm going to get fat by the time this cast comes off. It'll be fit to burst, no removal necessary. 'Thanks babe.' She knows I mean it. I grab her hand, 'Good luck on your first day darling. Oh I'm so proud of you!' I gush and she rolls her eyes.

'How many of those pills did you take?'

'Where's your uniform? I had it pressed and ready to go!'

'You're mad.'

'You're madder.' I retort.

'Only because I've been officially diagnosed' she teases and then adds solemnly, hands on my knee, 'Good luck with Emily.' With that, she throws her tan satchel and camera over her shoulder and grins- I frown. 'You stink you know?'

'I what?' My mouth gapes.

'Good luck!' The words absent of sentiment. Her lip quirks and then she's gone. _Shit shit shit._

**_AN: Cheers for reading. Reviews would be lovely ta!_**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: A own neither Skins or Rear Window, get used to it.**

**Author's Note: First of all, apologies for the three alert emails some of you may have got. Not cool. Secondly, cheers for the reviews, you're lovely. And thirdly, Emily will be in this one, sorry for depriving you. I shall not deprive you further. Well, maybe... for a little while. Enjoy!**

I have no option. There's no other way. I'm going to have to shower... myself. The horror. And you think I'm joking. After hastily munching down my toast I reach forward desperately trying to will my crutches into my hand. But there is no try, it's do or do not and I certainly_ do not _succeed. I haven't even used the properly yet and I doubt I'm supposed to be on them yet but I'll be damned if I'm not as sweet smelling as a bloody summer breeze by the time Emily gets here. I rest for a moment, a little puffed out from all that straining, and then begin to manoeuvre my legs round and out of the side of bed. I lower my right leg carefully to the floor, the angle change and slight movement causing a dull pain right around where I imagine the pins penetrate the flesh and bone of my lower right leg. The thought turns my stomach and I have to steady myself as the room begins to spin, blood rushing from my head. After a few moments the sensation passes and I can begin shuffling down to the end of my bed moving my bum then legs, bum then legs, bum then legs. When I reach my destination I take another stab at the crutches with my left hand, no luck. _I will have this shower! _ I flail a little at them now with my left leg and find purchase, knocking one to the floor. I scrap around and reach it with my left hand then use it to retrieve the other in a similar fashion. I need one of those litter pickers. But one of those cool ones for children and slightly more open-minded adults, which has a shark pincer.

Right. Now I have my crutches, how do I use these bad boys? I remember the lady in the hospital trying to tell me how to fit them to the right height. Something about if you raise your shoulder you should just be able to lift the bottom off the floor? Well right now lady, I really couldn't care less. I manage to totter to my door, leaning there for a moments rest. The dull pain in my leg is beginning to throb, turning more into a hot pain which probably isn't good. There must be some reason why the Doctor said the words elevated and bed rest but the current overriding words in my brain right now are shower and Emily. Shower and Emily, shower for Emily, shower by Emily, shower with Emily? Oh the possibilities. With my mind well and truly re-invigorated I set out on my voyage to the bathroom, one door down. I realise having an actual shower is probably a rather tall order but I'd settle for a hair wash because my hair is grim.

I prod the door open with right crutch, taking all my weight onto my left side. The door swings open to reveal my destination and my task at hand. I can't help but laugh at the sight before me. Set down in the middle of our bog-standard, walk in shower sits one of the chairs from our dining area. And sat on that chair is a fluorescent note. I hobble closer. _Bum here,_ is scrawled in Effy's cursive handwriting and I laugh. She knew I'd insist on a shower and this is her way of making sure I don't do something stupid in order to get one, her way of taking care of me even when she can't. More thoughtful than she looks that one.

I glance round the bathroom for more clues and am rewarded when I find a post-it on top of the closed toilet lid. _Leg here_, and now I see how this is going to come together. I sit onto the chair in the shower, resting my legs and remove my articles of clothing one by one, some more easily taken care of than others. I place my right leg up on the loo and go to twist my body so I can turn on the water. Out of the corner of my eye I spot another brightly coloured post it on the right shower door with an arrow pointing left. With a closer look I discover another post-it on the corresponding door, with another arrow pointing in the opposite direction. I reach for both doors and push them slowly round, towards each other where the would have met in the middle if my leg had not been in the way. If a stranger were to come into the bathroom right at this very moment the view would have been most unusual. A phantom leg perched upon a toilet, the leg's owner snugly sat, hidden inside the shower. I grinned at the thought of Effy sat inside here carefully fixing post-its, playing with the doors, positioning the chair just and so.

I shower as carefully as I can, trying hard not to let too much water escape from the outlet created by my leg. After I'm done cleaning I sit, hot water beating down on my head. I rotate my head from side to side, forward and back, letting the hot beads massage the muscles in my neck that I didn't realise were riddled with such tension. Maybe yesterday I'd be ruing over how I got into this mess but not today. Today is all about letting that go. A new start. A new start for Eff at Uni, one step closer to independence. A new start for me, forget about Katie with her dead boyfriend, forget about that Cook bloke, wash them down the fucking drain with the rest of the shit. Emily will be here soon and if she can put it behind her so can I.

Once I'm out of the shower I realise there's been one major flaw in my plan. Clean clothes. I'm not one to prance around nude when no one's home, not that I'd be prancing in my current predicament anyways but I'm pretty sure if I put my old clothes back any positive impact my shower may have had would be null and void. I begin to panic a little, what if Emily knocks right now, what do I do? I look round in search of a towel. Why didn't I think of this, why didn't Effy think of this? Miss Clever Post-Its. Didn't think of this did she? Some use she is.

In my faff it takes me a moment to register my broken reflection in the steamed up mirror. Most of the Naomi staring back at me is unrecognisable, disguised by the fine condensation. But some slithers are sharper and I can make out stripes of skin glistening back at me. As my panic begins to ebb away and my mind becomes more rational the slithers begin to connect in my brain, form words. And those words are, _In the cupboard loser. _I frown and stagger to the cupboard where I find cache of towels, socks, knickers, clothes and a hairdryer.What a bitch. She wrote that there knowing I wouldn't find it till after my shower, after the room steamed up. She thinks she's so clever. She's getting a knuckle sandwich when she gets home. I'm not being ungrateful.

I get dressed, washed and dry my hair. My leg is feeling exceedingly heavy now and maybe it's just me being paranoid but I'm sure my cast feels tighter so I decide to try and elevate it. Using my crutches I move through to the living room and find the puffet right where I left it. I sit in my chair, put my leg up and gaze out my window. Ah my old friend, it's been far too long.

The yard is as quiet as ever, the swings moving ever so slightly on their own accord, back and forth back and forth. I take a sneaky look over to where I hope Emily is but I see no sign of movement at her window. Tv looks to be off and the door through to the kitchen is open revealing a deserted room behind it. Maybe she's popped out to grab some things before she comes round here, or maybe she's in her room getting dressed or studying. Come to think of it, I still don't know what she studies here. I make note to ask her when I see her later. My eyes involuntarily flit to Cook's window which holds no sign of life either. I exhale. Today window, you disappoint. I scan other windows on Emily's floor. All vacant. Everyone's either at school or work.

Suddenly there's movement at the entrance to the yard. A large dog, long haired, warm brown coat, bounds through the gate and runs full pelt up to the litter bin. Placing its paws on the rim it pulls itself up, sticking its head over the side and rummaging around with its snout, sniffing and foraging. Its back legs keep propelling the dog upwards and then downwards again in quick eager bursts. It can smell something. _But what?_ The dog's owner now appears, bumbling and out of breath. He's waving the dog's lead over his head; a head adorned with unruly, curly brown hair. He looks as red as a beetroot. The owner stops and puts his hands on his knees, regaining his breath and sighing with relief. He approaches the dog and begins to rough up the hair on its head but the dog is relentless. The curly haired man's interest is piqued. He takes a firm grip of the dog's collar with his left hand, holding him back and delves into the bin with his right, a grimace on his face. After a moment of rummaging the owner's movement ceases. _What the fuck? _ I lean forward trying to get a better view. What can that dog smell? I can just about make out the sounds of the creature whining, wanting access. From my rather limited view I can see a triumphant smile creep across the owner's face. With a flourish he removes what looks like a mangy old tennis ball. He waves it at his companion with delight and I think I hear him say, 'Look boy, thought we'd lost this one didn't we? You have quite a nose on you!' The dog continues to whine as he's dragged away from the bin, back legs digging in, resisting as his owner begins to pull hard on the re-attached lead. 'Come on boy,' I hear him say. 'It's nearly your lunch time'. With the mention of lunch the dog is caught. Caught between getting to whatever is still in that bin or food. The animal finally relents, giving into the temptation of his favourite meaty mulch and after a few moments the yard is empty again. Quiet. Although now the yard looks so much smaller and the bin so much bigger, so much more menacing.

Maybe it's nothing, maybe it's everything. Maybe it's just a dead pigeon, but the part of me who said _forget Katie, forget Cook,_ is now saying _what the fuck is in that bin_? Can I make it down their in my current condition, probably not. _Shit_. I check the clock on the DVD player. It's almost 1pm and Emily isn't here. I try and distract myself with my new favourite past time but that bears no fruit. All I can see is that bin staring back at me. I switch on the tv and catch Doctors. All of a sudden it's 2pm and Emily still isn't here. I begin to worry. Should I go and knock for her? I allow myself another glance over to her window. Nothing. My heart begins to thump in my chest. Yeah, maybe I should go and knock for her. Make sure she's not in a bin somewhere, which she isn't, obviously. Certainly not in a bin which look suspiciously like the one I'm looking at right now. _Must stop looking at it! _

Where's that bastard wheelchair! I'm up and out of my chair. The hunt is on and I find my wheelchair tucked away in the kitchen. With adrenaline pumping through my veins, I blink and in an instant I'm up the lift and sat outside Emily's door. I've called through the letterbox twice, rung the bell four times and knocked too many times to remember. My head felt busy, as if a swarm of bees had decided to make it their play ground. Pain was beginning to creep back into my leg now, even when it was propped up in the footrest on the wheelchair. I needed my pain-killers but they were back in the flat and I certainly wasn't going anywhere. I knock again on the door. A hopeful 'Emily?' escapes by lips. I try again, hammering a little harder this time, calling Emily's name a little louder than before.

I hear the sound of a dead bolt being unlocked and latch being opened. My heart swells with hope. Hope that's dashed moments later when the door next to Emily's swings open. To my right stands Cook, again shirtless and in nothing but his boxers. Bruises still adorn his face, chest and abdomen.

'Oi, Blondie! Do you wanna keep it down? A man's trying to sleep here.' He scratches his stomach with one hand and places the other behind his head, ruffling his sandy blond hair.

So this is Cook. He's even more vile in person than he is from a distance. His eyes are bloodshot, big dark rings surrounding them. He speaks with a slight accent. Nottingham, Derby perhaps? I do my best to give him my fiercest Campbell Death Glare. Tyra would be proud. 'It's 2pm.' I snort.

'Like I said, a man's gotta sleep sometime'. He waggles his tongue at me, expecting a laugh. He receives none. No wonder he's lonely, he obviously can't function in polite society.

I cut straight to the point. As much as I'd love to sit here all day and converse with this fascinating gentleman. 'I'm looking for Emily, your neighbour. Have you seen her?'

He purses his lips and sucks in some air, his eyes go to the ceiling as if in deep thought. He's making a show. 'Red hair?' he asks.

'Yes,' I answer curtly. I'm already beginning to lose my patience. Emily could be anywhere by now and if he's seen her I needs him to tell me.

He taps his forefinger on his chin, pondering, processing my confirmation. He then points the same finger at me as if in realisation. 'Nice knockers?'

I feel a heat rising in me and it doesn't stem from my throbbing leg or muddled head but from my growing frustration. 'I...'

He then cocks his finger like cocking a gun. 'You're the girl who took a tumble right? Down them stairs?'

I smile tightly. 'What gave it away?'

Cooks grasp on sarcasm is as comprehensive as his grasp on appropriate public dress it seems. He frowns confused and points to my wheelchair. 'You're in one of them chairs...'

'Hmmm, perceptive...' He smiles, disarmingly and all of a sudden I see a side of Cook, the cigarette smoking man, I've yet to see. I see the boy underneath. Cocky and exuberant. Not weighted down by loss. I don't know how close him and Katie were but if he wasn't involved in her disappearance he had to have been grieving to some degree.

'So are you and Ems are like, you know?' Cook punctuates _you know_ with a raise of the eyebrows.

I frown and he seems to think I need some kind of translation as he begins to reel off various metaphors for sex. Metaphors meticulously crafted by thirteen year old boys.

'Buffing the beaver?'

'What?' I cringe.

'In the Summer of '69?'

'Excuse me?' I shake my head, mollified.

'Shagging!' And finally he decides to enlighten me.

A blush begins to creep up my neck and my cheeks become hot. 'Um, no. We er, we're just friends,' I say. Words falling in a jumble out of my mouth.

'Oh right right,' Cook touches his finger to his nose conspiratorially. 'Friends,' he nods, 'Gotcha.'

I get the impression that there's no use fighting with this guy. He seems to have one thing on his mind and right now trying to convince a rather lewd stranger that there are more important things in life than sex isn't my top priority. He goes to speak again but I cut him off, 'Look Emily was supposed to come round to mine this afternoon,' his mouth slides into an easy grin and he looks to comment but I continue. 'And she didn't show so I was just checking if she was okay.' I sigh as he looks back at me blankly. _Useless._ 'She's obviously not here so I'll...'

'Oh no, she's not at hers. She's in mine aint she?' He gestures with his thumb behind, into the depths of his flat.

'Prick.' That was no help at all. I roll my eyes and then my chair, starting back down the corridor towards the lift. I needed to find Emily. Maybe she was waiting at mine wondering where I was. Maybe we'd missed each other on our way to the others' flat. Her going by the stairs, me in the lift.

I'm almost back at the lift when the wheelchair veers violently to the left, turning back round in the direction it came. 'Ah come on now Blondie,' I feel Cook's hot breath on my neck. He's wheeling me back down the corridor at a pace, back towards his flat. I lift my right elbow, swinging it behind me in hope of it hitting something solid. I hit my mark but all Cook does is simply laugh. 'Show Cookie some love eh?' It _is_ Cook. He kidnapped Katie. He kidnapped Emily. And now he's kidnapping me!

He rolls me across the threshold and into his living room where he stops my chair abruptly and I slump forward. My leg jars and I hiss a little in pain. He comes round the front of me and throws his arms out, 'Ta dar!' He's grinning from ear to, eyes like saucers. I stare up at him, speechless for a moment until I notice the tiny movement behind him.

Curled up on the sofa, tousles of red hair poking out from under a blanket, was Emily. Definitely Emily. There was no mistaking her this time. My mouth moves but I have no words. 'Yo red, you've got a visitor.' I look back up at Cook who turns on his heel and strolls through to the kitchen, ruffling Emily's hair on his way.

The girl with cherry red hair stirs. She clenches her hands and screws up her noes, willing the sun away from penetrating her eyes. It would have been one of the most adorable things I'd ever seen if this particular red-head hadn't been in Cook's flat, on Cook's sofa, under Cook's blanket in what looked to be Cook's t-shirt and only Cook's t-shirt. Her dark eyes creep open, made even darker with sleep, and slowly find my form. First she sees the chair. She rubs her eyes. Then she sees my face. I must look as pale as sheet. I certainly feel it. 'Naomi?' she says, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind her ear. She swallows and realisation hits. She springs up from her position on the couch, both hands coming to her mouth. 'Oh God, I was supposed to be round earlier wasn't I? I am so so sorry Naoms. Cook and I were up all night and when Effy phoned I was half asleep. I think I've been asleep since.' She attempts a smile, she looks guilty as hell. And what the fuck does she mean, _up all night_? Is this why she begged me not to get involved?

'Kept you up did he?'

Emily's eyes widen, genuine panic spilling from them in waves. 'No Naomi, not like that!' She reaches forward and lays a hand on my good knee and I want to believe her. She sends me a reassuring smile. 'We were talking, just talking.'

I shrug, trying to show my indifference. And failing. 'I thought you said to stay away from this guy?'

'I said you should stay out of it,' her words weren't cold or defensive, simply stating fact. 'And I meant it. It's just...we're friends.'

'Right, I get it, you don't want me meeting your friends' I've become defensive, I'm pushing her away. I don't mean it but I can't help it. It's easier this way than to have her let me down easy.

'Naomi just calm down and let me explain. Please?' Both her hands are squeezing my knee now, her voice and eyes pleading with me, begging me to listen to what she has to say. I remember yesterday when she told me she'd see me tomorrow. Her eyes were bright then. Bright with anticipation, bright with possibility. Those eyes wouldn't fall on Cook so soon after. Not like that.

I look at her small hands, knuckles white, on my knee. I take them in mine, putting my fingers between hers, and watch the pinkness return. I look back at her but can't hold her gaze. I nod for her to begin her explanation. She gives me a thankful smile, pauses for a moment to collect herself and then continues.

'Before Freddie died I was here every other night. He lived here, with Cook. Katie and I would come over, have a few drinks have a laugh. That's how Katie met Freddie. We arrived the same day, helped each other move and went to the pub afterwards. That's how it started. Cook and I would talk about all the fit birds out for Freshers, after he got over me being gay of course and ruling out any possibility of a _twinsome,_ whilst Katie and Freddie fucked in the other room.' She pauses and shakes her head. 'He's been in a bad way since Freddie died. Feels guilty,' she explains.

'Guilty for what?' This wasn't the explanation I was expecting.

'I don't know...' she says with a wry smile. 'Guilty for fucking his girlfriend, guilty for not being there for him when he needed him the most, guilty for selling his ps3 for drugs.' She was counting on her fingers now, one hand still firmly clasped in mine. Her eyes flick to the kitchen and she lowers her voice. 'There's a lot he should feel guilty about. I saw him from your window last night too. Saw his bruises. He's lonely and he deserves it but I was worried. I thought maybe he'd gone looking for her again, run into some trouble. He knows she was here the other day and I was hoping...' She looks to the floor now with another shake of the head. 'I was hoping he might have found something.' I run my thumb across her knuckles in an attempt to soothe her.

'Did he?'

She sighs, shoulders heavy. 'He said he met the heel end of a bouncers boot before he got anywhere. And once we started talking we just...he's really lonely Naoms. He's different'. I meet her eyes and I can see the glaze of unshed tears trying desperately to stay unshed. 'He misses her, he misses Freddie. And I think he thinks if he finds her it'll make up for all the times he fucked up last year.'

'Will it?'

'As long as he thinks so. I meant it though Naomi, when I said to stay away from him. He's not stable anymore. He goes out of his way to hurt himself and as much as I hate to see it, I think he deserves it.' Her gaze is steely now, resolved, and I know she means what she says. Cook's hurt Emily and the people around her, but she loves him. I can tell. You never stop loving the prodigal son.

I move to catch a tear on the verge of escaping one of Emily's deep brown eyes when Cook tears out of the kitchen, a Stella in both hands.

'Ladies! How about a cold one?'

Emily jumps up from the sofa, quickly wiping away any evidence of tears from her cheeks. 'No thanks Cook,' she says, forcing a smile and busying herself with pulling on her jeans which she grabs from off the coffee table. 'I should get Naomi back to hers. She's not supposed to be out of bed.' Emily grabs the handles of my wheelchair and begins to wheel me to the door.

'Nice one Red, oi oi.' Cook howls and I hate him again. 'Anytime you two ladies fancy a frolic with the Cookie Monster, you know where to find me,' he winks, mouth gaping open.

Emily freezes and turns us back around. She stands for a moment fuming and I can see that she's beginning to lose it. Everything is catching up with her once again, worry upon worry, loss upon loss, and she snaps. 'Fuck off Cook!' She spits with a venom I never thought her capable of. 'Any chance you could go be a cunt somewhere else?' He doesn't say anything, doesn't even flinch as tense silence falls between the two of them. Cook licks his top lip, tasting the electricity, trying to work out how much further he'd have to push her to find himself on the receiving end of a slap or a barrage of words and screams. How much further would be have to push for her to continue the silence and never break it, ever? He sniffs now as his face splits into a wolfish grin.

Emily waits a moment longer before turning me back around and pushing me out into the corridor. I hear Cook's voice jeering behind me, 'Oi, Naomi, want to see my tattoo?'

Emily rolls us into the lift. She goes to push the button for my floor but I catch her shaking hand a give it a firm squeeze, directing her finger to button for the Ground Floor. I look back up at her over my shoulder and give her a reassuring smile. 'Let's get some fresh air shall we?'

By the time the lift touches down I've lost count of how many times Emily has apologised for losing her cool. 'I'm so sorry Naomi, I don't know what I was thinking going back there, you shouldn't have had to see that.'

'Emily, it's fine really. You wanted me to stay away and I don't think that's going to be a problem anymore.' My poor attempt at bringing light to the situation fails with Emily's face still etched with regret. I pull on her hand, motioning for her to crouch besides me. When she does she rests her forehead against mine, exhaling, her body relaxing. Coming down from it's fight or flight adrenaline rush. I hook my thumb under her chin and bring her lips to mine where we stay like that for a few seconds, savouring the calm we bring to each other. A small cleansing laugh escapes Emily's lips and soon it's ripping cathartically through her chest. I hold her hand and watch in wonder as the fearsome red-head I saw a minute ago dissolves into a giggling idiot.

'Oh God Naomi,' she attempts as she begins to bring it under control. 'It's just so...' she chokes a little and the laughter threatens again but she quells it. 'It's just so ridiculous. He's ridiculous, this whole situation is ridiculous!' She throws her hands up in the air, exasperated. She looks at me, tiny hands on tiny hips and smiles and I can't help but smile back.

I'm lost in Emily's eyes momentarily until something behind her catches my attention. Something huge and bin like. The litter bin. I quickly grab the wheels and propel myself past a confused looking Emily and over to the object of my uneasiness from before. If Emily's not in the bin, then who or what is? I peer over the rim, bracing myself for what I might find.

'Naomi, I'm really sorry but... what the fuck are you doing?'

_Nothing_. There's absolutely nothing inside the bin. Nothing but shiny new bin bag. Somebody emptied it, somebody who must have seen the dog take interest. Somebody who must have been watching at the very same time I was. I think back, but I draw a blank. Every window was empty, I'm sure of it. I gaze up and pick out my flat a few floors up. Someone must have seen, someone on my side of the building. The side that I can't see into. The idea of it irks me. They could be watching right now. If they were they'd surely know I'd seen everything too. I look up again, meticulously scouring windows now. Empty, empty, curtains drawn, empty. I hastily wheel around, frustration quickly boiling over. I have to get out of here. My breathing's becoming shallow and I again feel the blood rushing from my head to my toes.

'Naomi!' Emily calls after me. 'Where are we going?'

'You're taking me for coffee. Where's the furthest Starbucks from here?'

'Er, Seattle?'

'Great, take me there.'

_I don't like being watched. _

**AN: Cheers for reading. This one was very narrative heavy so next chapter will be lighter. Next chapter, their first 'date'. Apologies if you're a Cook lover. I am too and he will get better. Promise. Reviews are wonderful if you can. Ta!**


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